


The Screenplay

by GranolaSuite



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF, British Comedy RPF, Cumberbitches, Cumbercollective, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, Comedy, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, TietjensBatch, Unresolved Sexual Tension, making movies, movies - Freeform, romcom, sex scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 49,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4104538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GranolaSuite/pseuds/GranolaSuite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This, again, is a different method of story telling that I'm trying. I'm writing from alternate viewpoints, so this one is going to swap between my two main characters, Sarah, and Ben. </p>
<p>I'd love to hear your feedback, both good and bad, what you do and what you don't like about it. This started life as a novella in November 2014, featuring different characters, but I figured I'd throw it out into the fanfic world and see what happened. </p>
<p>Let's pretend this is an an AU as opposed to current time. My brain, when writing this, was fanging for TietjensBatch, so just picture that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**_Sarah_ **

I was very proud and fiercely protective of my screenplay. I’d been writing it for about 9 months, so I guess you could call it my baby. It was written during lunch breaks, late night writing sessions on weekends, and on the sneak during working hours. I worked in publishing and absolutely loathed it, so it provided a much needed solace from work at times. I loved the characters, my creations, and I loved the story. It dealt with current social themes such as contagious diseases, government inaction, and conspiracy theories. Everyone who’d read it told me they love it.

I managed an appointment with a local production company not far from my home in London. It was my first call back on the screenplay, and I’d sent it to close to twenty different production companies so to say I was excited was the understatement of the century. It was scheduled early on a Monday morning, so I’d taken the day off work. Even that couldn’t guarantee that I’d be on time; my alarm clock had failed to go off that morning, thank you very much overnight power blackout.

I awoke in my bed, eyes springing open like someone had taken the wind from me. My room was fairly bland; beige walls, a double bed in one corner of the room, a desk and laptop in the other corner. I had a bookshelf made out of a disused ladder. Some people called it bespoke at the time, I just called it recycling; it was cheap and gave me somewhere to store my books. I threw the duvet back and my feet landed on the cold wooden floor.

My heart raced a million beats per minute, the smell of toast wafting through the hallway and permeating through every corner of the house; that meant Adele was awake. Adele and I lived together in a two bedroom upstairs flat in Lambeth, close to the centre of town, but just far enough away that we could still afford the rent. She was my best friend and we’d shared flats, units and apartments in their various guises since we finished university and entered the working world. She worked as a PA, so was often out early and in late, which suited us fine.

The shower water barely touched me as I sprang in and out, brushing hair and teeth, and pulling my hair up in a topknot. I was glad I’d picked out an outfit the night before, black pants and an orange top, with clean black shoes. Nothing spectacular, but at least the orange top might stand out in their memory. I was willing to try any suggestion at this point in time; I could taste the mixture of desperation and success in my mouth constantly as I waited week after week for call backs. Finally, I thought, I had my big chance.

Adele was nowhere to be seen, the toast must’ve been burnt, hence the lingering smell. I grabbed my screenplay and fossicked around for house keys at the last minute before I locked up and left for the day.

Strangely enough the meeting and the registered address for this business was a residential address in the middle of northern London. The Tube was packed by the time I managed to reach the station, cursing myself the entire time for not setting a secondary alarm on my phone. I had a business card with a name and mobile phone number on it and felt it best I let them know I was late. Thankfully my call was well received, glad that I hadn’t skipped town, and I began to calm down a little bit; just slightly.

I pushed past people as I made my way out of the underground station, legs burning; running up stairs instead of taking the escalators to the surface. A mapping program on my phone led me to the address on the business card, not before crashing into someone. I wasn’t watching where I was going and ran directly into someone; pages of the screenplay falling to the ground like autumnal leaves, other pages whipping away with the cool breeze.

“I am so sorry.” I bent straight down to the ground, and tried to retrieve what I could of the screen play. I was at the point now where I thought I should just give up, go back to bed and try and start the day again.

“No, no, my fault, I do apologise.” He bent down with me, retrieving papers scattered around the ground. It wasn’t until he bent down that I recognised him.

Benedict Cumberbatch; he was tall, currently rocking straw blonde hair, green eyes, renowned gentleman and Hollywood celebrity. I knew his work well, very well in fact. I was part of the growing legion of fans he was attracting for his wide and varied portfolio of work. I was lost for words, completely, and tried best as I could to gather up my remaining pages and disappear off into the park.

“Doesn’t look like you’re having a great morning,” he joked, handing me back the last few pages, the screenplay now completely out of order.

“I need to go home and start today all over again. I’m late for my meeting, it’s really important to me, and now I’ve nearly bowled you over, I’m so sorry.” I was sure I was word vomiting, but he excused it.

“It’s okay, really, no harm done. I’m Ben.” He held his hand out to shake mine.

I managed a hand free and shook his outstretched hand, making mental notes the whole time about how warm and soft it felt to touch. “I’m Sarah.”

“Sarah, lovely to meet you. Good luck with your meeting.” Just like that he’d walked off, continuing in his original direction.

I stood and watched him a moment before I snapped out of it and hurried along the footpath, still two streets from my destination. I hoped my tardiness wouldn’t reflect poorly on me but, realistically, I knew how much it irked me when people I worked with were late. I straightened myself up and knocked on the door to the understated flat that stood before me. Three stories, with a small front garden and porch, red brick, white window frames and a house alarm presented to the street. Anyone walking past would have no idea that there was anything special about the flat.

I was greeted at the door by a man with dirty blonde hair, introduced as Adam, co owner of the production company. Besides himself, there was only one other co-owner present, introduced as Jack Child. The third co-owner, so far unidentified wasn’t going to join us, a project he was currently working on having taken his attention that day. My stomach constantly knotted itself over and under with nerves, deep heavy breaths at every opportunity as I tried to drink in my surroundings. No matter what I tried, though, I don’t think I retained a lot about my surroundings the first time I sat with them. There was a large wooden table in the middle of the front room, tea and pastries ordered for the meeting.

“Can we get you a tea, Sarah? Something to eat? We figured we may as well order some morning tea.” Adam’s smile was warm and inviting, allowing me to relax enough to manage a cup of tea.

“Thank you; that would be lovely.” I smiled politely and waited impatiently in my chair.

Shortly thereafter, our meeting commenced. I’d managed this meeting solely because they’d put a call out for new and undiscovered writers, my screenplay submitted as a result. I was eternally grateful that they both had their own printed copies, because mine was now a mess; one that I struggled to piece back together in the early stages of the meeting. Nerves gave way to excitement the more time I spent there, and the longer I spoke to Adam and Jack. We covered topics such as the inspiration for the story, the characters, and what parts of the world I saw the film set in.

It was early afternoon before I saw myself leaving and heading home, screenplay clutched to my chest; I didn’t need a repeat of the morning. Laughter wracked my body as I walked through the park. Not only had I just had a four hour long meeting regarding the possibility of selling my screenplay, I’d run smack bang into my leading male actor on the way into the meeting. Even though I left the meeting with the stock standard response of ‘We’ll be in touch’, I hoped like hell that was a sign from the Gods that my luck was about to change.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Benedict_ **

Busy, busy, busy. My day didn’t stop once it started. I was poked, prodded and pushed in the directions and places I needed to go; drivers driving me, staff picking me up lunch and suits. I had a theatre interview and photo shoot in the morning that I chose to walk to. Infernally frustrated with the busyness of it all, I’d decided to walk to the interview, through a local park towards a quiet local cafe.

I rather enjoyed interviews in cafes and pubs, at least then I could sit down with a bite to eat and something to drink and relax somewhat. My darn phone beeped at me for the umpteenth time that morning as I walked through the park, so I fished it from my jacket pocket to inspect the contents of the email. A new script for a television series pilot; the best part of all was I was being offered the role. It was mine if I wanted it, no audition.

My thoughts were cut short when I ran into a young lady clutching a stack of papers. She looked mortified, embarrassed, and distraught, so I leant down to help her collect the papers that blew around. Myself running late, I was relieved to find she was in a panic for much the same reason. Not wanting to add to her upset, I offered my apologies, helped her up off the ground with a brief introduction. The look in her eyes told me she knew exactly who I was, that my introduction was not necessary, myself grateful she didn’t make a song and dance out of it, instead choosing to continue on her path towards her own important meeting.

She was selling her screenplay; I imagine that would be as nerve wrecking as trying to land your first few acting jobs, so I wished her luck and continued on my way.

The interview went well, though the questions and the photo shoot were a tad monotonous, and I went straight from that into a script read through for a theatre production I had coming up. A long afternoon was followed by a meeting with some friends; dinner and drinks, they had something they were excited to show me.

I arrived at our favourite local haunt, a private booth set aside and drinks ordered. One of the perks of stardom was a nice quiet booth away from the prying eyes of the public. It was fine and dandy to interact with people, and I didn’t think myself above and beyond, but it’s nicer still to be able to switch off and just enjoy the company of friends and, in this case, co-workers as well.

“What have you got for me?” I rapped my hands on the table while we waited for drinks to arrive.

“I think you’re going to like this one.” Adam pushed a screenplay in front of me; the title immediately recognisable.

A dystopian thriller based on contagious diseases, government cover ups and military rule. Did I want to take it home and have a read through before we made the final green light decision? Absolutely.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Sarah_ **

I tried to put the meeting to the back of my mind; I wasn’t expecting an answer straight away. I also wasn’t expecting them to take 12 weeks to make up their mind either, so I was decidedly beside myself when I heard back from the production company. I was standing in a cubicle at the back of the office, photocopying endless copies of a training schedule. The walls were filthy; white paint covered in dirty black toner laced fingerprints, the floor covered in staples people were too lazy to pick up, and reams of paper split apart and savaged like children’s piñatas.

My phone rang, with a number I wasn’t familiar with, so I answered it quietly.

“Sarah Watford speaking.” I head the handset close, my voice a whisper.

“Sarah, it’s Adam, how are you?”

I froze, completely; in fact, I was sure my heart stopped. An odd sensation washed over me, nerves, excitement, and trepidation, all mixed into one glass and shaken within an inch of its life. My eyesight narrowed to the point where I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking at.

“Adam, hello, how are you?” I tried the calm route as I scuttled out of the office and into an adjoining meeting room, the door snipped quickly behind me.

“Very well thank you, yourself?”

“Yes, excellent, great.” I would be even better if he had good news for me.

“So, Sarah.”

“Yes?”

“Well, the three of us have sat down and gone over your screenplay and we think that we would love the opportunity to buy it from you.”

I fell over. I actually fell over. I took the rest of the call staring at the ceiling of the meeting room, no rush to get up off the floor. Adam was going to email me details of a further meeting to organise documents, papers for selling the screenplay, and suggested I might want to get an agent in the meantime to help handle the process. I needed an agent. I had sold my screenplay.

The rest of the day was a complete write off; I couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate, and spent most of my time daydreaming about what was going to happen. Who would be in the film? Would I get some sort of creative control or consultancy? The emails backed up, work could wait, and I scurried home in a mess of excited nerves with a bottle of bubbly to celebrate with Adele.

She screamed when I told her which, in turn, made me scream again, before we ordered Chinese takeaway and celebrated with bubbly. I called in sick the next day, preferring to spend my time researching agents and looking for one that suited me; how did I not think to do this before? I realised then how blind I was going into the whole process, even for someone who worked in publishing. A few friends who had managed to sell their work pointed me in the right direction and I had a hastily organised meeting that afternoon with Julie Richards, the woman who became my agent.

A day of annual leave saw me free to attend my second meeting at SunnyMarch; a bit of a quicker trip than last time, I managed to get there without running into anyone, without spilling anything on the ground, and managed to avoid almost getting hit by oncoming traffic as I ran across roads. In fact, for how I was feeling, it really was quite a nice trip in.

I found the house again and knocked on the door, nerves now mixed with a newfound sense of confidence. I was there because these guys wanted me there. They wanted to buy my screenplay; I was going to have my story turned into a film, and it was the most amazing feeling in the world. The world seemed to agree with me as well, clear blue skies, a light breeze and the glinting sun just warm enough to be welcoming without being too warm and, in a rare turn of foreshadowing, public transport ran on time.

I waited, with no answer. I checked the notes made in my phone; definitely the correct time and date, my heart now pounding for other reasons. I turned to face the street, watching cars, buses and bikes whiz past when I felt a rather dull thud on the back of my head. Pained, I reached for it immediately, rubbing tenderly and turning to face the offending screen door that had been opened on me.

“Sarah, right?”

I was sure I looked more surprised than pained. “Ben?”

“What are you doing here?” He eyed me off suspiciously, not completely unfair; I’m sure they’d have plenty of strange fans knocking on the door.

“Well, I have a m-meeting,” I bumbled. “Screenplay to sell.”

“That’s _yours_?” He stopped, before quickly remembering himself. “Come inside, come in, come in.” He waved me in through the front door. “Is your head okay? You aren’t bleeding are you?”

“No, just a bit sore, I’ll be fine.”

As if my week prior wasn’t far enough removed from reality, I was then escorted inside to a kitchen area with Ben. This man, this movie star, this celebrity I had watched from afar, admired, lusted for, then asked me if I would like a coffee. I gazed around the kitchen, so simple, yet elegant. The fittings and appliances were modern and elegant; certainly a far cry from my flat.

“Sorry?” I returned to the present.

“Coffee. Would you like a coffee?”

“Sure. Yes. Coffee would be great.” I nodded emphatically. “So, this is someone’s house then?”

“Yeah, Adam’s; he’s just nipped up the street to grab morning tea. So I’m intrigued by this screenplay.”

“You are?” I asked, surprised. It’s not every day someone you admire openly declares an interest in your work.

“Absolutely, yes. There’s some fantastic social themes present. Risk vs. Reward, moral ideas on who do you save? How do you make that decision? Who and how do you decide who gets the vaccine? Is it then racist to close your borders to foreign visitors? Really, really fantastic stuff.”

Without skipping a beat, I slipped into that wonderful place a writer often finds themself when someone engages with their work. An open and fruitful debate followed as we sipped coffee that soon turned cold, ignored in the discussion about the screenplay. I was sure Adele wouldn’t believe me if I told her this has happened, and I tried to soak in as much detail as I could, listening to the dulcet tones of Ben’s voice as he constructed and deconstructed ideas surrounding the story.

Interrupted by Adam’s return, we retreated to the main dining room that we’d met in previously, a brief discussion commenced with the offer of a contract. My agent, whom I’d notified Adam of, also had a copy of said contract. A quick phone call confirmed that she was happy with the details, and she again explained the back and forward discussions that had happened over the past few days. This deal was the best we could come up with, excellent for both parties, my screenplay sold for six figures with an active role in pre-production.

My hand trembled as I signed my name and inked my first sale. My screenplay was about to become a film.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Benedict_ **

I was completely blindsided by how busy my life became in the twelve weeks after getting a copy of the screenplay from Adam. We’d dined at the pub, and I’d taken the document home with me to read. Exhausted, I slipped into sleep shortly after showering and climbing into bed.

I was in between read throughs, and then started filming a WW2 romance in Paris for 8 of those weeks, so the screenplay stayed on my bedside table for the duration of that, eventually being picked up about a week after I’d gotten home.

Captivating. If I had to use one word to describe it; there was no identifying information on the cover sheet, not always a bad thing, otherwise I would have called the writer myself to apologise for my tardiness. Needless to say I called Adam the very next morning and told him to arrange a meeting with the writer. Not only did I want to purchase this, I thought it an excellent platform for us as a production company; a project I wanted to direct and, team willing, star in.

“That’s a bit leap,” Adam reasoned.

“Not at all a bad idea, though,” Jack concurred. “Saves money on hiring a big star.”

“Well, basically,” I nodded in agreement. “I could just take a percentage. You guys would be on as producers anyway, so it will all work out in the wash.”

Needless to say I got the shock of my life when the same girl from the park turned up on the doorstep that morning. I thought I’d heard the front doorbell go, but wasn’t one hundred percent sure. Thinking it might’ve been Adam having trouble with the front door, arms full of morning tea, I blustered down the stairs and threw the screen door open, hitting her on the back of the head.

She was very gracious about it of course, but she was giving me those eyes. The eyes you see in a lot of people on the street; the ‘I know who you are’ eyes. She’d given them to me in the part, and I was most appreciative that nothing further came of it; no autographs and no photographs, but this time she was walking into a meeting at my insistence; I hoped she would be professional about it.

Engaging; if I had to describe her in one word, she was thoroughly passionate about her screenplay and the themes that she’d structured into the background. They were some of the major selling points for me, and I appreciated the extra perspective that I got from her as she sat chatting animatedly about her screenplay. She really was a joy to watch; her face lit up and you could tell instantly how very attached she was to the characters and the story. I recognised that in myself when dealing with characters that I was playing in all facets, film, television, or theatre. When you connect and engage with something on that level it really is a very lovely feeling.

Adam and I had engaged with her agent quite a bit that week, trying to settle the best deal for both parties. What we wanted as a production company, versus what Sarah and her agent both thought was important. Adam took on most of the correspondence, but I was privy to a large portion of it as well. Not unusual, a request for involvement in preproduction came through; we were more than happy to accommodate that, hoping that the author’s involvement would also help to facilitate any script changes. The last thing we needed was to produce a film, only to have the writer come out at the other end criticising us for butchering their work.

“Are you okay?” I looked across at Sarah, her face bewildered and herself overcome with a case of the giggles once she’d signed the contact.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head madly. “This just does not feel real.”

“Well,” I opened my diary up onto the table. “Let’s make it feel a bit more real and schedule our first preproduction meeting.”

She nodded nervously, pulling out her iPhone; currently her only form of diary. “You tell me when and I’ll be there.”

A complete read through of the script was scheduled for a full day block four weeks from today. I had a few days off in between projects, and could schedule the rest of my social calendar in around this; the sooner we got started, the better. I had a three month block at the end of the following year during which we could film. Knuckling down and getting the script sorted as soon as possible meant I could book that block of time out to dedicate to filming.

As I watched Sarah leave later that afternoon, I couldn’t help but be struck by her nature. Warm, bubbly, engaging, and all round good fun.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Sarah_ **

I walked around on a cloud for the better part of a month afterward, which was infinitely frustrating. We were working around Ben’s schedule. Fancy that; not so long ago I was lining up to buy tickets to see his films, reading articles about him online, buying magazines with his face on it and now, well now I was contemplating sitting around a table discussing my screenplay with him. It still didn’t feel quite real.

In a flash of brilliance, Adele and I decided it might be a good idea to completely wipe our social media platforms; who knew who was looking at them and for what information. We sat next to each other at the dining table, laptops open and champagne flutes full.

“15 Things You Might Not Know About Benedict Cumberbatch,” Adele laughed. “Delete.”

I groaned outwardly. “I so hope no one from the production company has been through these yet. Could you imagine?”

“I would imagine you wouldn’t have been let in the front door if they knew that.” Sometimes Adele spoke a lot of sense; one of the reasons I loved her.

“Which Benedict Cumberbatch Character Should You Date?” I snorted. “The one that answers the front door.”

“Do you think I could meet him?” Adele had finally popped the question that had been on her lips for weeks.

I shrugged. “I guess you probably will at some stage, yeah. I don’t know what the protocol is, but sure.”

She squealed a little, clapping her hands together. “I’m so excited for you, and to engage in a debate about your story so quickly.”

“Oh, I know.” I gushed. “Beyond words. I have no words for him.”

“What if he turns out to be a complete dick?”

My job continued down the same blackened path it had always lead me down, though since signing my contract I walked around a little less afraid of things. Sure, I still needed the money, but I didn’t care as much. I was relaxed, relieved and looking forward to the future. If this worked, if this film took off, I could make something of this profession and that spurred me on.

The night before my first pre-production meeting a flash of brilliance, or stupidity, lead me to start working on another story. A short story I wanted to jot down before I started working on a screenplay for it. Of course that kept me awake far later than it should have and I fell asleep at my desk, a rattle at the front door waking me up far too early.

Realisation hit me like a ton of bricks. I had my meeting that morning and had to get ready. I definitely wasn’t hearing things as the rattle on the screen door started again. I thought nothing of walking down the hallway, pyjama pants and singlet top on, and hair in a loose plait as I opened the front door.

“Oh Jesus!” I shrieked, slamming the front door shut.

“Not quite.” His reply was dry, and none too happy.

I pulled the door open slowly. “Benedict?”

“Ben. You’re late.” He pushed through the front door, dressed casually in black drill pants, blue business shirt and a thick jacket.

“How late?” I rubbed my head.

“We started half an hour ago. Was starting to think you weren’t interested.”

“Of course, of course I am.” I answered emphatically. “I just started a new idea and -.”

His look cut me off.

“I’ll just go get dressed.” I shuffled off to my bedroom.

Showered, dressed and ready to go, I found myself escorted to the production offices in a relatively new black Bentley; leather seats, full of all the bells and whistles. Ben’s jaw was set hard, his brow furrowed as we skipped through traffic at a rate of knots.

“Ben, I’m sorry.” I offered, constantly tearing at a piece of notepad stuck in my lap.

“Look, it’s okay, really. I’m late myself at the best of times. Just, my schedule is very tight at the moment so I appreciate when others appreciate that.”

“Of course.” I nodded; I had nothing else to offer, he was right.

Red lights held us up further, and Ben huffed in the drivers’ seat.

“What’s coming up?” I looked across at him.

He looked at me, confused. “Sorry?”

“What have you got coming up, work wise?” I knew the answer full well, but perhaps it would give him something else to concentrate on.

“Oh.” He relaxed back into his seat as the lights changed. “Well, I have a theatre production I’m looking at; a few guest spots on some TV shows, just for a laugh. Also, I need to go to LA for a film shoot shortly. That’ll keep me busy while Adam and Jack scout for locations for yours.”

“Wow. Busy man. What are you looking forward to the most?”

“Theatre, I think. Keeps me home. I get to come home to my own bed each night, that’ll be lovely.”

“It’s funny how much you miss your own bed when you go away.”

“Yeah mine doesn’t see a lot of action these days.” He stopped, realising the double entendre in his words. “What I mean is -.”

“It’s okay, I get what you mean.” I smiled as we pulled up just outside Adam’s house.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Benedict_ **

My life can be a haze of meetings sometimes, and the month after purchasing the script was no different. A few business dinners saw Adam, Jack and myself working through the script and just making point of things we wanted to discuss with Sarah at the next meeting. This was always a sensitive point, for anyone, no one likes their work poked and pulled apart.

My current schedule made it hard to date. Hell, it made it hard to do a lot, really. Trips to the supermarket were difficult enough; autographs and photographs, with some of those photographs being sneaky, over the shoulder mobile phone shots. Those were the photos that irked me the most. Dating was difficult; every time I was photographed with a woman, be it a friend, or a family member, it was instantly tabloid fodder. I once had my cousin mistaken for a girlfriend, which made that discussion with family interesting.

I’m glad for my team pointing me in the right direction constantly; I sometimes wonder where I’d be without their guidance. Travelling to and fro, movie festivals, premieres, screenings, interviews and the like, they make sure I’m not late or, at least, as on time as is possible.

That’s why I wasn’t as hard on Sarah as I probably could have been. Adam, Jack and myself were sitting around Adam’s dining table waiting for her to show. My earlier interactions with her had been that she didn’t like being late; it wasn’t her style, so I offered to stop by her house and see where she was given it was 10.30am, our meeting had started at 10.00am and she was nowhere to be seen.

I immediately felt terrible for her; she answered the door in her pyjamas. Probably not the impression you want to leave on the person financing your film. A hurried rush saw her dressed and ready to go. I winced on the way out, a magazine with my mug on it sitting on her coffee table.

We survived the drive to Adam’s without me having to take a phone call, which was unusual but nice, the meeting starting very shortly after we arrived. I think her tardiness, plus being slightly overwhelmed by the situation in front of her made it hard for Sarah to object to many of the suggestions that we placed in front of her. A quick discussion while she was in the bathroom, and we’d decided we would rewrite a few scenes and perhaps sit down with her again in a week to decide one way or another on some changes.

“What do you think we should do? She seemed a bit overwhelmed today?” Jack pondered as we packed up for the afternoon.

“Take her out to dinner.” Adam suggested. “Get her to meet the team, pre-production, everyone she’ll have to work with, get her chatting to them. Once she’s more confident with them, we should see Real Sarah pop up.”

I couldn’t disagree, plus a social night out would be great. I phoned my team the next morning and asked them to organise something for us.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Sarah_ **

Adele laughed loud and long when I told her what had happened, which didn’t help my feelings about the situation. I mean, Hollywood celebrity turns up on doorstep, you’re not dressed properly, _and_ you’re supposed to working with them; how do you think I felt?

“Oh, but come on! That’s glorious! Did he say anything? I can’t believe I missed him. Benedict Cumberbatch in _our_ apartment.”

“No, he didn’t really. He just mumbled something about how much he appreciates when others appreciate how tight his schedule is.”

“You mean he was polite about it? Could he get any more perfect?”

I groaned. “Really? I have to work with him. I’m having trouble telling my hands from my feet at the moment.” The realisation of my statement hit me. “Did you hear that? I have to work with him.”

“You do.” Adele nodded with great approval. “I’d like to work under him, but with him is also acceptable.”

“Stop!” I hissed. “No more. Mature adult must be engaged now.”

We were eating lunch at a cafe the Saturday following my first meeting. The crowds were the same as usual, but I felt somewhat detached; there was so much stuff floating around in my head at the moment that I just felt disconnected from everything. As if I was there, but not present. The usual bitter tang of coffee, burnt croissants, and the sweetness of cakes hung in the air as we did the groceries and soon went back to our apartment.

A phone call later that afternoon threw my afternoon into a completely different trajectory; I was sat on our small balcony surfing the internet on my iPad when the phone rang with a number I wasn’t familiar with.

“Sarah speaking.” I’d decided to engage a ‘professional’ voice when answering my phone lately; who knows who could be on the other end of the line.

“Sarah, Ben, how are you?”

My eyes nearly dropped out of my head as I did my best to remain calm. “Very well thank you, Ben, how are you?”

“Good, good. Just finishing up for the day. Listen I was talking to Adam and Jack, and we thought it best if you met the pre-production team before we go any further with this. It might be good for you to engage with everyone on a personal level before navigating the process.”

“Sure.” I nodded wildly. “Sounds like a great idea. When shall we do it?”

“Well, my team has organised something for tonight if that suits?”

“It does now.”

“Okay, excellent. I’ll get someone to email the details through for you. Is that okay?”

“Of course, that’s fine.”

“Do you have a boyfriend or husband that you need put on the invite list?”

“No, but I do have a housemate that I’d like to bring if that’s okay?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. You’ll get the email in ten minutes or so. Shall we see you tonight?”

“You will.” I answered. “Definitely. Sounds great. Thank you Ben.”

“No worries. I’ll save you a seat.”

I hung the phone up and turned to run inside, slamming my face on the sliding glass door but laughing all the same as I went inside.

“What’s wrong?” Adele looked at me.

“No dinner tonight. No cooking. We’re going out.”

“Where?” She started following me down the hallway. “What’s going on?”

“Dinner. Ben. Pre-production. Cumberbatch. Dressed. Get. Now.”

Laurel and Hardy couldn’t have done a better job. Stained dresses, running make up and late public transport followed by rain as we trudged our way through London looking for the restaurant address contained within the email; Adele got the job of holding the umbrella over the both of us in a vain attempt to not get the finest clothes we owned wet.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Benedict_ **

I looked forward to the pre-production dinner. Like I said, time is precious lately and the opportunity to slow down and just enjoy myself for a little while is always welcome and very special. With the way things were happening in my career at the moment it also meant that a lot of trips out were difficult, paparazzi followed friends and I wherever we went and stories spread at lightning speed.

My team had managed a private room at The Fourteenth Floor and organised the whole thing. Everything sorted and paid for before we got there so as we didn’t have to worry about looking at the bill towards the end of the night; just charged straight back to the production company.

I’d come off an afternoon of rehearsals for The Twelfth Night, a Shakespearean regular and, between that and read throughs and auditions for other roles, I was near on exhausted. Sarah was quite excited when I rang her, which was lovely; all previous plans for the night were cancelled and she was bringing her housemate with her to the restaurant for dinner.

I didn’t get a great chance to chat with her until later that night as she slowly ventured out into the group of people we had assembled; lighting, costume and set designers, sound engineers and cinematography. She was most excited that some of the team had already started on story boards for the project.

I pulled a chair out for her as she approached, sitting down rather gently and sliding her shoes off under the table.

“How are you?”

She seemed surprised that I would ask. “Very well, thank you. Thank you so much for tonight. How are you?”

“I’m exhausted.” I admitted out loud; not many people managed to pull that one out of me, but there she’d done it almost instantly.

“You have a lot coming up, don’t you?”

“I do, I do.” I leant forward to continue the discussion. “Booked out for the next two years at this point in time.”

“So you know what you’ll be doing for the next two years?”

“In a roundabout way, yes; I mean, not day to day for interviews and that sort of thing but in terms of blocks of time, sure.”

“How do you deal with the interviews and stuff?”

“Uh, well, just take them one at a time. I’ll have to take you along to one so you can see what they’re like. You don’t have a lot media experience do you?”

“None at all, really.” She admitted.

“Well, that will change soon enough.” I smirked.

Without so much as a blink of the eye, she’d abandoned me in favour of talking to the sound guys down the end of the table, as well as some of our location scouts, and I appreciated that. So often in my work people would latch on and not let me breathe for five minutes, much like Adele, whereas Sarah couldn’t have cared less, picking up and leaving me in the lurch, though she did leave her dark blue shoes under the table. The humour wasn’t lost on me; one of the most exclusive restaurants in London and she was walking in her navy blue dress without shoes on.

It was then that I decided to take her under my wing and show her the ropes; she was going to need to know how to navigate the world I had taken ten years to adjust to.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Sarah_ **

I was really conscious of taking up Ben’s time and I didn’t want to be seen to be hogging his attention all night, so I made sure to make my way around to everyone. I can’t remember a lot of names from that night, but I hoped they would come back to me when I met up with everyone again. Adele had taken to Ben quickly, chatting away animatedly, though I was sure I caught Adam and Jack rolling their eyes at her; I think she’d latched on too hard.

“Can I get Ben’s phone number from you?” she asked me over dinner the following Monday.

“No.” I shook my head. “I’ve already been given the talk about absolute discretion from my agent and from Adam much, I think, for Ben’s benefit.”

“Wow, really? They told you to keep your mouth shut?”

“Well, wouldn’t you if you were inviting new people around? Potential business partners and such?”

She shrugged. “It was lovely talking to him though; I’d love to see him again.”

“Well, if he asks for your number, then I’ll give it out. Otherwise, I can’t help you with his, and please don’t be bragging to people either. I don’t need to be followed around by cameras and stuff like we got on the Saturday night coming out of the restaurant.”

Reluctantly, Adele agreed, and I hope she kept to her agreement because I was about to get very busy. Luckily for me, my boss was rather accommodating; I explained my situation, that the screenplay had been sold and we were now moving into preproduction and I was told so long as there was reasonable notice given, days off wouldn’t be a problem.

Compared to my Saturday night, the rest of my week really was very bland. I kept my next meeting tucked in the back of my mind and looked forward to it immensely. I had an annotated copy of the screenplay from my last meeting and had made small notes in the hope of trying to explain myself further.

Reeling with confidence following out dinner, I found myself early and ready to rock and roll, greeting everyone like old friends I hadn’t seen in months; a new level of comfort obtained by everyone. Well, I can’t say that; they were already comfortable with each other, but at least I felt better.

This was also the start of the problems. Ben had a very strong vision for where he wanted to take some of the characters, and some of those ideas weren’t in line with how I’d written them or how I envisaged them at all, that comfort spilling out into argument as I stood my ground on some of the changes he wanted to make.

“You can’t just up and do that to _him!_ ” I argued. “That’s not how he was written.”

“I understand that, but I think it will add an extra layer to the story if you have him reacting badly to this particular incident.”

“No.” I shook my head. “That changes him completely.”

“It does not.”

“You can’t just change the whole character, Ben, that’s now how I wrote him,” I was getting worked up; this felt like the fifteenth change in as many minutes.

“Hey? You’re the one that said it was just a bit of tosh,” he argued with me, both of us getting frustrated with the other.

Adam watched on, wincing.

“Of course I said it was tosh. You were reading it, I was deflecting.”

“What? What if he was reading it?” Ben pointed at Jack.

“Don’t bring me into your marital tiff,” he held his hands up.

“Marital tiff. For shit’s sake,” I huffed, “I created these characters, they are me. These are a part of _me._ You can’t just up and change them,”

“I can if he’s a complete wanker,” Ben stabbed at the paper with his finger.

“You’re the only wanker here, mate,”

“Mate,” he mimicked.

“Don’t you copy me,” I pointed at him.

Ben looked at me dumbstruck as I got up and rounded the table towards the kitchenette to make a coffee. It made perfect sense to me, I had written these characters, they were my creations and, whether modelled on someone I knew or not, they were very real to me.

“You think real men are this bad?” Ben called, referencing a character called Richie, based on my ex-boyfriend.

“I know they are,” I spat.

“Of course you do,” he mumbled.

“Of course I do,” I took a seat at the table, this time sitting opposite and not next to Ben.

“What? You’re going to play that game?” he raised his eyebrows at me, “I’m not going to bite,”

“Yeah but she might,” Adam laughed.

My head snapped around to Adam; I wasn’t laughing.

“He’s not doing this to be horrible. We’ve both spent a lot of time on this and we both think these changes need to be made,” Adam reasoned.

“Plus, you did sign up for a percentage of profits, did you not?” Ben’s eyes shot up from the papers in front of him.

“Oh, I don’t do this for the awards,” I bit back.

“Right, I think we’re done today,” Jack spoke up over the silence that was crowding the room, Ben and I staring each other down like a midday duel.

“No we aren’t,” Ben’s eyes didn’t move from me.

“Well if we aren’t done, you two need five minutes in time out,”

Now both of us were staring at Jack, who sat with a smirk on his face. Ben got up from his seat, moved around the table and sat next to me.

“Happy?”

“Good to know that one works,” Adam excused himself and left the room for a minute.

“Have you calmed down?”

“Excuse me?” I almost shouted at him.

“You need to learn about working in teams,”

“I can work in teams. I work in teams all the time, just not ones that try to strip my creativity dry for their own self serving needs,” I stood up, grabbed my bag and headed for the front door.

“Sarah, come on,” Ben followed me down the footpath, grabbing for my arm as he went, “Sarah stop,”

Frustrated, I waited for the next bus to turn up; Ben standing next to me the entire time. I didn’t want to look at him, talk to him or have anything to do with him, really; I was too worked up.

“Sarah, are you going to talk to me or ignore me? I can do this all day.”

“If I talk to you now, I’ll say something I’ll regret, so I’m not going to say anything,”

“I’m doing this for us,”

“For us?” I spun around to look at him, “Are you serious? You just made me feel like shit in there, how are you doing this for _us_?”

“For _us_ , for the team, for the film; you need to be a bit more impartial. I know it’s hard because you wrote it -,” he stopped as the bus pulled up and its doors opened, “Just have a think about it,”

“You’re not who I thought you were,” I stepped into the bus, noticing a number of passengers with their camera phones out. I rolled my eyes, walked towards the back of the bus and took a seat.

Ben stood and watched as the bus rolled away; I felt terrible, particularly since we ended up with people taking not so sneaky mobile phone photos, probably all on their way to the tabloids the minute the bus rolled out. I reached into my pocket, retrieving my phone to fire off a hastily thought out apology but I just couldn’t do it; my finger hovered over the send button.

Eventually I got the gumption up to send one later that night.

_I’m sorry people were taking your photo. My fault entirely for making a scene._

Plain and simple; I really hoped we wouldn’t see anything in the tabloids.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Benedict_ **

Where do I even begin? That day fell off the rails very quickly. I’d woken early, gone for a run around the local park and returned for a shower, picking up some morning tea for everyone on my way through to Adam’s place.

Sarah was on time, no prompting required, but we had a good laugh about that after she’d come in and settled down; far more comfortable than she had been around us so far, going so far as to make herself a coffee within five minutes of walking through the door.

Then, it felt like every corner we reached for the next few hours was met with disagreement and anger. I’m not normally one for yelling at people, I figure you can generally sort out issues if you talk and reason with each other. This is probably why I found Sarah’s reaction so flummoxing. Her demeanour descended from bright and bubbly to downright dark and stormy before she left in a huff.

I tried to cajole her, though not too much, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to go just give in to her; changes had to be made and she needed to accept that just as much as I needed to work out a compromise with her. Bus travellers were quick to point their mobile phones at us as the bus pulled up to the stop; Sarah’s face giving every indication that we weren’t having a positive discussion.

“I need to know if any photos surface in the next few hours and have them stopped.” I’d called my publicist, Angela, and filled her in on the situation.

“Ben, what’ve you gotten yourself into now?” she teased. “Another love triangle?”

“Hardly,” I scoffed. “Sarah was just a bit upset after our meeting today, and some bus passengers, phones, I’m sure you can fill in the gaps.”

“Ah yes. Alright, well we’ll keep our eyes open on this end. In the meantime, don’t worry about it too much.

“Thanks Ang.”

“You all good for shooting that commercial tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I am. I’ll be ready to go.” I agreed.

I contemplated checking in on Sarah to see if she was okay but, again, it was business. It wasn’t personal and I wasn’t sure if my sending her a message was going to inflame the situation. Adam was right; I had torn her to shreds and, were it me, I probably wouldn’t be too happy about it either, so left it to the next morning before I thought about contacting her again.

Sarah had beaten me to it.

_I’m sorry people were taking your photo. My fault entirely for making a scene._

I was surprised by her candour, and the fact that she was worried about me instead of her.

_It’s okay. I owe you an apology, too. My team are sorting out the issue with the photos as we speak. You don’t need to worry about it._

Then I waited. A response wasn’t far away, though.

_Let me buy you a drink to make up for it?_

Wow. To say that surprised me was an understatement. Like I said, her candour surprised me, then knocked me for six; still, it made me smile.

_Why not? Sounds good._

She replied quickly after that.

_Okay, well I’m in a movie theatre, film’s about to start. I’ll be in contact later._

Suited me fine.

_That’s fine. I’ll be around. Just pop a message through and we’ll work something out._

I got on with my day feeling a bit better about the situation, calling Adam on the way to my next appointment.

“Well, you’d better sort yourselves out, otherwise she’s off the team.”

“You can’t do that to her,” I bemoaned the situation. “She’s new to the business. She’ll learn, just let me guide her through it and we’ll see how we go.”

“Yeah, like you guided her through the script changes. We better not have these types of outbursts every time something doesn’t go her way.”

“You won’t. I’m going to see her for dinner and I’ll lay the situation out for her and explain where everyone is coming from and that should sort it out.”

“So basically you’re going to shag her into submission.”

“Don’t be daft,” I scoffed. “Not planning anything along those lines.”

And I wasn’t.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Sarah_ **

I felt like a complete moron; an utter and absolute moron. How had this happened? Instead of buying the tabloids for a laugh, I was now concerned I was going to end up in them. Thankfully, for the week afterwards, I hadn’t. Adele and I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. No photos from our argument had surfaced online yet, but Adele had seen a few postings with chatter that something had happened. We discussed the situation, and both agreed to keep mum about any or all goings on. Adele had a high paying PA job that she wasn’t keen on having disrupted and I, well I just didn’t want people hanging around. They agreed no friends were to be told and absolutely nothing went on social media.

Another topic of discussion was the actual disagreement I’d had with Ben and, on Adele’s advice, I decided I had to start compromising even if it killed me. Both of us also agreed on sharing my character descriptions and other notes made during the writing of the screenplay itself.

Ben made contact early the next morning and we arranged for dinner the following week when he had a night off. At his suggestion, dinner was at his house; much easier to keep the media, fans, and rumours at bay.

I got a lot of questions about who had purchased the screenplay, and who was going to be in the film and did I know any celebrities yet? In the interests of privacy, and the non disclosure statements I’d signed, I couldn’t say anything other than a very paltry “It’s in the hands of the studio”. Which, technically it was, I guess.

Fancy getting to send text messages to Ben Cumberbatch whilst on a lunch break; the irony of it not lost on me when sitting in the tea room during lunch that week only to hear women whistle at the TV as presented himself on a chat show for an interview. It was insanely difficult to not blurt out a complimentary ‘I know him!’ Instead I sent him a message.

_You’re currently on my television, and all the girls in the lunch room are whistling at you._

Immediately, I regretted it; I figured he’d think I was some obsessed stalker. On the contrary, I got a rather funny message back.

_Feel free to send a critique once you’re done watching._

I snorted into my phone, attracting the attention of those around me. I dismissed the text message quickly as something from my mum, left the tea room so as to avoid any more questions.

“Keeping rumours at bay,” Adele teased while I got ready.

“Heaven forbid,” I smiled. “This is so bloody unreal,”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Nervous.” I straightened my shirt and brushed my hair for the tenth time. “Gah, look at me. It’s not even a date.”

“He’s single, you’re single.”

“I don’t know if he’s single.” I shrugged.

“Could you imagine?”

“Don’t get carried away,” I warned her. “Seriously. This is crazy enough as it is, let alone without planting that seed.”

The taxi ride felt like it took twice as long as it should. I had a satchel bag, a copy of the original manuscript with notes on it, my character descriptions and notes, and a bottle of red wine. Was it any good? Who knows, but it had cost me twenty quid, so it can’t have been too bad.

I stood on the porch a moment, straightening myself up. Shirt straightened, wine cradled in my arm, satchel in hand, I rang the doorbell as I looked around the front porch. A three story townhouse that looked just like every other house on the street; he clearly wasn’t a fan of gardening, a tree overgrown in the front yard and a jasmine creeper on some lattice across the edge of the overhanging porch.

I hadn’t noticed the door open and got a fright when I found Ben standing there looking at her.

“Oh!” I gasped, “Hello, sorry,”

“Not into the gardening much,” he gestured to the front yard.

“More of a yard than I have,” I shrugged, “It’ll do,”

“Come on in,” he moved out of the way for me to pass.

“Thank you,” I smiled warmly and helped myself into the front room.

Ben’s house was warm and inviting, very homely, I thought as o looked around and took everything in; shelves full of books, light and airy fixtures, polished floorboards throughout.

“This is lovely,” I offered, aware I didn’t want to look like I was gawking on purpose.

Ben took the bottle of wine from me, “Thank you,”

Nerves took over, the both of us I think, neither of us sure how we should start the conversation; instead, standing there awkwardly in the entry hall. I looked around, Ben fidgeted, and we remained at a stalemate, one waiting for the other to speak up.

“Nice place,” I repeated.

“Thank you,” Ben chuckled, “It’s home. Here, let me show you around,”

I looked around for somewhere to drop my bag, Ben helping with a coat stand and gesturing to the kitchen and dining room as somewhere for me to drop her bag. We started with the wine first; normally not a great idea, but I was open to anything that was going to calm my nerves at that point in time; the first glass gone in record time, and the second not far behind it. By glass three, dinner was almost ready, and I was definitely ready to talk.

“So Ben,” I started, fishing through my bag. “I have with me all of my notes. Everything; character descriptions, sketches of buildings I’d drawn, photos of places I’d been on my travels that I used as scenery and stuff.”

“Wow. Excellent. Sounds good.” He nodded appreciatively from his spot on the opposite side of the table.

“So, I consulted my fortune teller, also known as my housemate.”

Ben wore a sly smile. “Yes, and what does your fortune teller say?”

“Well, that I should be nicer to you.” Hell, the red wine was doing things. “And that I should compromise because, well, because reasons.”

“Because reasons works for me.” I could see he wanted to laugh. “But if it makes you feel any better, I am also open to compromise because I know, and could see, how passionate you were about your characters.”

“Oh, I’m very passionate.” My hands flew to my mouth and I laughed at what I’d just realised I’d said.

“Would you like some dinner first, and then we can get down to business?”

“Sure. That’s probably a great idea.” I nodded. “What’s on the menu?”

“Are you offended by steak and vegetables?”

“Not in the slightest.” I enthused. “Hell, it’s been a long time since I had a decent steak. Let’s do this. Do you need a hand?”

“No, no, don’t be ridiculous. You get your notes out and get yourself sorted. Here, I’ll dash upstairs and get mine and you can read them while you wait.”

He disappeared upstairs, leaving me looking around his kitchen and dining area; a long, narrow space. The area featured gorgeous designer furniture but still minimalist, very lovely and not overdone at all. I listened as his footsteps traced their way around the next floor and, for a moment, I caught myself wondering what upstairs looked like. He returned shortly after with a pile of papers; the screenplay, a notepad and computer printouts.

“I’ve put all my reasons next to my notes too, but don’t get too worried. We’ll sit down after dinner and go through them all properly.”

The night was hugely constructive and, honestly, I think the alcohol helped. We were both a bit more relaxed and open to each others’ ideas; to the point that we were crying with laughter at one point when looking at something comedic that happens through the story and talking about how they’d film it.

“Who did you have in mind for the lead actor?” Ben looked at me towards the end of the night.

“Can I sound really lame and say you?” I worried about his reaction, but said it anyway.

“Can I sound really lame and say I’m glad? Because I want to do it.”

“You do?” I sat up straight, surprised.

“Of course I do; something completely different. An action, adventure, thriller type role; I’ve done the romantic lead, I’ve done the police detective, I’ve done the Shakespeare and the dumb characters. I want a good, juicy action hero role and this, this, will be fantastic.”

I beamed with pride; he wanted to be in my film and we’d managed to find bearable compromises on most issues. How could I say no to that? I couldn’t. Ben called me a cab later on and I disappeared into the night with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to call shortly for another meeting, dependant on schedules. I agreed, of course, I would have agreed to anything by that time of night.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Benedict_ **

I was exhausted, utterly exhausted. I checked in with Angela each morning as we went through my daily diary, noting any changes that had or were yet to be made. She was fantastic at her job, as well as the small team she had behind her, and they made my life a heck of a lot easier. We had a great working relationship, which meant she often gave me a ribbing about things that popped up in the media.

“New girlfriend this week, Ben?” she teased down the line.

“Not that I’m aware of,” I laughed. “We didn’t have any untoward pictures turn up, did we?”

“No, no, of course not; all under control. We’re just taking bets on how long until the next lot surface, though, and who they’re of.”

“Oh, like that, is it?” I could hear Angela and the girls cackling away in the background.

“We’re only joking. You know how much we love you.”

“Of course you do, of course,” I mused down the line. “My day looks good, we’ll talk shortly. Thanks Ang.”

“Welcome.” She ended the call.

I went into my commercial shoot, did my thing for the day and went home, glad to be able to take the makeup off my face. I know it was part of my job but, really, I could do without the makeup. That was one thing I noticed about Sarah every time I met with her; the lack of makeup. Her friend Adele near on owned a cosmetics factory and, yet, Sarah strode into the room like it didn’t interest or bother her. I was a bit jealous of that, honestly.

I’d blocked out my Friday night. The Thursday night I had to be in London for the recording of a late night chat show; the Friday night I was catching up with Sarah to see if we couldn’t sort out some of the issues we’d been having with her screenplay lately. I was both relieved and surprised that she’d made contact during the week; an off the cuff remark about me being on her television, but it was good to see she wasn’t so upset with everyone as to block us out completely. I appreciated that, and I think it broke the ice a little when it came time for us to meet again.

I’d been to the grocer and organised some steak and fresh veg; not exactly gourmet, but home cooked, nonetheless. Sarah was due at 6p.m. and arrived right on the dot. I don’t normally get nervous around a lot of people, but I was that night. I’d had the ultimatum from Adam, basically get on or get out which, while not an issue for me personally, would have been for all of us given different involvement clauses signed into contracts. I was expecting, given previous experience, the night might go one of two ways.

I was either going to get the Sarah that stomped her feet and walked out, or the Sarah who was lovely, jovial and cooperative, much like the Sarah I’d seen at the preproduction dinner. I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted with the latter, turning what should have been a short enough meeting over dinner and a bottle of wine into a three bottle, rollicking good time that ended only when a black cab turned up at 1a.m. to drive her home.

It’s funny to watch how people react to you as a celebrity. I hate that word, by the way, celebrity. It’s just my job, but it so happens to give me a lot of public exposure, too. Either way, it is what it is, and peoples’ reactions are funny to watch. Some of them don’t care much for it, which is lovely; then there are the ones that seem to want something from you, be it a quick shag, or money, or both. Then there are those that are way over the top; those ones are the scary ones, declaring online that they’re married to you.

Sarah fit into the first camp, I think. She thought nothing of telling me I’d left the sugar out of the cake I’d clearly failed to bake properly.

“What do you mean it tastes like crap?” I mocked offence as she laughed hysterically.

“For a chocolate cake, it’s not very sweet.” Over the course of the night, she’d started on the opposite side of the table and eventually moved to sit next to me; much easier to collaborate next to each other than opposite.

“Of course it is, I put sugar in it.”

“I don’t think you did, actually,” she laughed, taking another sip of wine.

I reached into the cupboard behind me and looked. The sugar I’d bought that afternoon sat, unopened on the second shelf. I pulled the sealed bag out and showed it to Sarah.

“Looks like you were right.” I danced the sugar around in my hand. “Apologies for feeding you a terrible cake.”

She waved her hands around furiously. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“I do have chocolate, though, if you’re interested.”

“Absolutely, bring it over.”

The things that we couldn’t agree on, and they were only minor, we agreed to put to a vote at our next meeting with Adam and Jack. Bringing our own notes certainly helped, as well. We both got a better idea of what each of us wanted and could work around that, often taking elements of both and working them into one cohesive structure.

The more I worked with Sarah, the more I got glimpses of her in each of her characters. By the time she left, I was intrigued; I wanted to know more. For the moment, however, we were ready to go to storyboards, and I had to board a flight to LA the next morning.

“So, what, that’s it. No more meetings for a month?” Sarah mocked her upset. “Here I was starting to feel special.”

“Yes, well. You can go back to your exciting job, I can go back to mine.”

“I assure you, I’d happily swap.”

“Would you just?”

“Absolutely. Flash bulbs, flash dresses, flash everything.”

I was struck with an idea. “I tell you what, then, Sarah.”

“Hmmm.” She leant against my small brick fence while we waited for the cab.

“When I get back to London I will call you.”

She smiled immediately, chewing on her bottom lip. “So far so good.”

“You can spend the day with me being completely glamorous. We can have a five in the morning wake up, interviews, read throughs, and an afternoon on a set somewhere. How does that sound?”

“I’m keen. Just let me know when.” She pushed herself off the fence as the taxi approached.

“Alright, sounds good.”

“Good luck in LA,” she offered as she slid into the backseat. “Break arms, or legs or whatever.”

“Or not.” I rolled my eyes at her. “Enjoy the nine to five grind.”

“Yeah, or not,” she repeated back at me. “See you when you get back.”

“Will do. Take care.” I gave the roof of the cab a tap and it drove off into the night.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Sarah_ **

Ben was going away for a whole month, so I was sure I probably wouldn’t have a lot to do with the pre-production during that time. I was glad that we opted for dinner and drinks that night, smoothing over our issues; it helped to be in a good place with him.

Adam called me on the first Monday in September to let me know Ben was back in the country and he wanted to catch up quickly to go over the storyboards before he took the train over to Paris to shoot a short film.

“Is tomorrow an issue?” He was straight out of the blocks.

“Look, honestly, yes. I can probably get out of here a bit earlier, say 3p.m. and we can do a late afternoon early dinner thing. I’m happy to host and do dinner for everyone?” I answered as I flipped through the open diary on my desk.

“Let me check with Jack, and Ben, and I’ll be in touch. We just would really like to get this done quickly before his nibs scoots out of town again. He’s a hard one to pin down, you know.”

I laughed, “Yeah, so he tells me.”

“Alright one of us will be in touch. How are you going otherwise? How’s work?”

“Oh, driving me nuts, the usual.” I was pleasantly surprised to get something other than a business conversation out of Adam.

“Well, let’s see if we can’t make this film a blockbuster. That way maybe you can give it the flick and perhaps write another winner for us.”

“Oh, wow. Okay, I think I can work within that parameter.” My head was dizzy with the revelation that there could be a second film in this somewhere.

“Talk soon, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Bye Sarah.”

“See you later, Adam.” I ended the call and slumped back into my seat. I could definitely handle writing another script for them; whether or not the one I was working on was of any interest to them was another issue, but I was willing to try.

I half expected Ben to be the one to call me back but, alas, it was Adam. Four o’clock the next afternoon was fine. They had my address and were happy to take me up on the offer of dinner. One movie star, two producers, and two storyboard writers were coming to my apartment for dinner. What a head spinner. Adele, of course, was beside herself with glee.

“Ben. Here. In our kitchen?”

“Yes, and Adam, and Jack, Brad and Gordie,”

She bounced up and down on the spot for a moment. “What are we cooking them? I want to impress Ben.”

I felt an odd, and sudden, surge of protection for him. It took me by surprise, but I shoved it to the side for a moment while we brainstormed something to do for dinner. We came up with the simplest and easiest of meals; gnocchi with burnt butter and sage sauce, easy and very tasty. Also, it was cheap to make.

We spent that night cleaning the house from top to toe, paying even more attention than we would if we were expecting a landlord’s inspection. Every surface was dusted, wiped and polished within an inch of its life. Magazines and DVD’s stacked in their correct places, floors vacuumed and moped, everything was ready to go. All we needed now were the guests to arrive the next night.

I floated around work in a stupor the next day, constantly fielding text messages from Adele about what dress she should wear in order to impress Ben. I replied that I wasn’t 100% sure, but she should go with whichever she felt more comfortable in. I would be lucky if I made it home in time to greet them all after doing a quick supermarket run on the way home to procure chosen food items.

I was right. Trudging up the stairs to our unit, light drizzle causing my clothes to stick to everything, Ben had already arrived, bringing Adam with him. Jack, Brad and Gordie weren’t far from arriving. Adele was already inside playing hostess, drinks at the ready, so I slipped quietly down the hallway, managing a shower and quick costume change before reappearing in the kitchen.

Dinner was lively, a lot of tall tales and laughter, Ben known for making a fool of himself and others on set. That set the tone nicely for the rest of the night as Brad and Gordie got right to it after dinner with their storyboards. All hand drawn in thick black pencil, they’d worked through the majority of the script working out camera angles and shots they wanted to use. It was beautiful, so, so beautiful.

I sat curled up in my chair, legs crossed, studiously examining the pictures placed in front of me. Completely overwhelmed, I was laughing and crying at once.

“This is just glorious,” I snivelled. “I just... this blows me away.”

“So, you like it then?” Gordie teased.

“Oh, of course I do.” I nodded wildly. “I love them. You’ve basically captured what is tucked away in here.” I tapped my temple as I spoke. “Unbelievable. Adele, what do you think?”

“I think it’s amazing,” she agreed. “Completely mind blowing.”

“So, we have a lot of stuff going on in the background.” Adam was checking the time on his watch. “I think the next thing we need to do it probably start looking at cast, and location scouting. I mean, none of this is instant. Ben has talked about wanting to play the lead male, so we have to work around his schedule and, anyway, I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.” I looked between the four men piled into my living room, the television silent but burning brightly in the corner. “But can’t we just do it now? It’s all a bit exciting, isn’t it?” I teased.

Thankfully, that drew laughter from them all.

“It is for us, this will be our first big, full scale production.” Ben stood up. “And as much as I’d love to hide out here, away from cameras and prying eyes, I need to get out of here; I’ve got stuff on tomorrow morning.”

The general consensus was that everyone was going to take off. Good for me, I also had to work the next day. I saw everyone out to their cars, Adele still hanging around, kissing everyone goodbye. I stood back, impartial. It was business, after all, and not best friends, a curt wave all I offered them. The air was still damp, but with more a mist than a light drizzle.

“I’ll call you, too.” Ben pointed at me. “I told you that you could play tag along for a day.”

“Oh,” I was surprised he remembered. “Of course, sounds excellent.”

Adele looked across at me. “Tag along?”

“Explain later.” I mumbled.

I wasn’t getting away with it that easily, a full explanation needed before I was left alone to go to bed that night. I think she was a bit bummed that I’d been invited along. Apparently a request for a phone number got her a knockback.


	14. Chapter 14

**_Benedict_ **

I was glad to be back in my own bed. Four weeks of shooting in LA was fantastic, amazing to be cracking that market, but at the same time thoroughly tiresome. Long, long days and, sometimes, nights but I’m so glad I did it. I was one of many in an ensemble cast in a comedy film. I was aware I was being photographed as I walked into Heathrow; one of the perils of my job being that I had to be on my guard all the time. At that point in time, it was about 2am when I arrived home. Still, they were there and waiting, as were the autograph hunters. Well, I hope they got great shots of me in my tracksuit pants.

I had a heap of mail to collect from the local post office, so took off up there the next morning to collect that. I stopped in at the office to see Angela and the girls, collected some scripts to read though from them and went out for an early dinner with some friends.

I wanted to spend a few days just laying about in bed and relaxing, but Adam rang to tell me we had a production meeting at Sarah’s house to go over storyboards. I didn’t mind getting out of bed for that, it was a quiet neighbourhood, no cameras, no paps, and I could just relax in someone else’s house.

The meeting went fantastically, far better than any of the other ones we’d had before. This time we got happy tears from Sarah. I hoped that in ten years time she was still so overwhelmed and excited about the industry. I was certainly trying to maintain that.

I felt comfortable sitting in Sarah’s lounge. I took a chair in the corner, a large, oversized but very comfortable rocking chair, and settled in for the night, listening to the back and forth between Brad, Gordie and herself. Adele was overly attentive, to the point of being somewhat annoying. Almost like that little fly that buzzes around your head on a humid summer night that you just can’t get rid of. She was lovely enough, but I wasn’t interested; even if she did ask for my phone number.

My calendar for the next week was pretty lax, which was nice. I had one busy day, the Monday, and thought it a good idea to take Sarah around with me. She had this idea, like a lot of people, that I lived a very glamorous, glitzy, easy life. I’d offered to take her around on a busy day with me to show her what it was like.

“Are you looking for excuses to see her?” Adam quipped as we sat in a coffee shop.

I shook my head. “I shouldn’t think so. She thinks it’s all glitz and glamour. I offered to prove otherwise.”

“Right.” He smiled. “Here’s an idea, get her to bring the housemate and you can have a -.”

I shook my head, cutting him off. “Adam, seriously. There’s nothing like that going on. Plus I’m not interested in the housemate.”

“Ah, but you are interested in Sarah.”

“No,” my answer was drawn out. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I rolled my eyes as Adam got up and paid for lunch. “Talk to you in the next few days, yeah?”

“Of course, yes.” I nodded and watched as he left.

Maybe he was right; maybe I was just looking for excuses. Either way, I picked up my phone and sent her a message to organise the following Monday. I hated sitting on my own in cafes; it left the door wide open for people to come and ask for photos and autographs, which I don’t mind doing in the least but sometimes when you’re not in the mood, you’re not in the mood.

Jacket zipped up, and umbrella unfurled, I pushed my way out into the street, into the drizzle and headed for home.

I was looking forward to Monday.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Sarah_ **

It took a few days, but once he’d settled back into London life, I heard from Ben about our ‘play date’ as Adele termed it. I think she was a bit cranky, to be honest, but there wasn’t a lot I could do about that as we went about our daily lives, waiting for things to keep ticking over with the screenplay, which now had a working title of _Interminable_. It sounded quite a bit flashier than my writing title of _The Virus,_ so I quite liked that.

A message came through the following week from Ben.

_Can I interest you in a day off the 9 to 5 grind next week?_

I smiled into my phone, sitting at my desk, and typed a quick response.

_Depends on what we’re doing?_

It took a little while for a response, but I’d already organised the day off by that time anyway.

_Field trip for you. Pick you up at 4.45am. Bring a book._

I stared at the screen in disbelief. It was actually going to happen.

And it did. After a busy weekend with Adele shopping, lunching with friends and hanging out in central London, I was greeted with my alarm clock at 4a.m. Monday morning. My eyes were hardly open as I toddled into the shower, cold water sending me retreating until a genial temperature could be reached.

I rugged up against the cold, I stood outside in the freezing weather waiting for the car to arrive. It did, right on schedule at 4.45am. A black, four door sedan pulled up flush to the curb, a driver alighted and walked around to the rear of the vehicle, opening the door for me.

“Oh!” I began, surprised.

“Good Morning Ms. Watford.”

“Good morning.” I smiled; this was more than a bit special, and I slid into the back seat to find Ben laughing heartily.

“Your face!” he managed.

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“When the driver got out to open your door.” His laughter was contagious.

“What?” I chuckled.

“You looked rather bewildered.”

“Well, Mr. Cumberbatch, it’s not every day I have a man come and open a car door for me. I’m very used to being self sufficient, I’ll have you know.” I teased back.

“Well, Miss. Self Sufficient, I guess you won’t be needing this coffee, then?” he took a swig of a take away coffee.

I snatched it quickly from him, sucking the coffee down greedily.

“Not too self sufficient,” I defended myself. “I appreciate a nice gesture occasionally.”

“Oh, is that so?” He’d finally relaxed back in his chair as the car pulled away from the curb and into the morning dark.

“That is so,” I affirmed, seat belt buckled.

“What’d you bring with you?” Ben gestured to my small backpack.

“Oh, just a book and a magazine.”

“What book?”

I smiled. “What is this, twenty questions?”

“Yes. What book?”

“Just a manuscript I’m editing for work.” I answered quietly. “A bit of romance.”

“Oh, so you’re into romance then, are you?”

I looked at him oddly. “Aren’t most girls?”

“Hmm, not all in my experience.”

“Maybe you’ve had the wrong experiences, then.” I watched as he took the manuscript from my lap and started a slow flick through the pages.

I watched silently, waiting for some sort of reaction and got nothing. Head down, he read through the first few pages. His face contorted from a look of approval to that of uncertainly and back again within the space of a few minutes.

“What are you thinking?” I ventured.

“Well, it’s quite well written. I’m also thinking I’m tired and would love to still be tucked up in bed, and you have lovely handwriting.” He handed the manuscript back to me, our fingers brushing gently during the light exchange.

“Thank you.” I smiled, turning my attention back out the window.

The creak of leather filled the rear compartment as he rested back into his seat. “What are you thinking?”

“That I’m tired, that my water was insanely cold first thing this morning, that I can’t believe this is happening to me.” I turned back to Ben as he gazed out the window contently. “What are we actually doing today?”

“I have a wardrobe fitting first thing, then a breakfast TV interview, then a photo shoot, then another magazine interview, then a read through for...” his voice trailed off as he pulled his schedule from his small bag, “ _Impatience_.”

“What’s that one about?”

“It’s a rom-com about a guy, me, who is in a hurry to find a wife.”

“Are you in a hurry to find a wife?”

“A wife wouldn’t hurt, but it’d be very demanding on her. She would have to understand how busy I am at the moment.”

“Aren’t you with Mary Jolly, though?”

“Ahhh... where did you hear that one?” Ben frowned at me.

“The internet is full of all sorts of weird information.”

“No, Jolly Mary got shown the door. It doesn’t take long to work out the hangers on.”

The car pulled up in another curb, our doors opened for us, a quick walk inside to a television studio. I was introduced to everyone as a new assistant; apparently the fact I had a clipboard with me was very helpful.

“Showing her the ropes.” Ben grinned widely at the girls at reception.

What I got over the next 12 hours was definitely a showing of the ropes. I honestly don’t know how he did what he did. Of course not every day was like that, but he worked and he worked hard. We stopped for a quick lunch at about midday, but aside from that he did not stop. I was largely ignored throughout the day, unless someone wanted to hand me things that needed autographing. A pile of 2000 posters not lost on Ben.

“Really? All of them?”

“All of them.”

“I’m never going to get to bed tonight at this rate.”

“Do you do them all yourself? By hand?”

“I like to, yeah.”

“Well, what if I cook dinner and you can sign them?” I offered.

Pensive for a moment, he looked over at me. “You’re not sick of me yet?”

“Not quite.” I smiled. “Come on, I’ll duck into the supermarket and pick up something easy.”

Ben smiled broadly, exhaustion worn all over his face. “I’d love that, thank you.”

I was ambushed when I got home by Adele; she wanted to know the ins and outs of what had happened. She was so excited that we ended up chatting about it until midnight, before turning in for a very restless sleep.

I filled her in on the day, that yes it was slightly boring sitting around and just waiting for him to have his photo taken, or to record a five minute interview, or to do a photo shoot. I’d met a lot of British film and television actors in the afternoon when he went for a script read through for _Impatience_ , which was just lovely to watch everyone going around a table reading out the script.

“And then, I cooked him dinner.” I said very proudly.

“You cooked dinner for Ben Cumberbatch?”

“I did.” I beamed. “And he enjoyed it.”

“I’m so jealous of you. What’d you cook?”

“Just some pasta.”

“With your spicy sauce?”

“Yes.” I smiled.

“He’s gonna wife you.”

“He is not,” I scoffed. “There’s no way he would wife me with all the options I saw throw themselves at him today.”

“Oh please.” Adele dismissed me with a wave of her hand. “He might not be into those types, that’s why he’s got no one right now.”

So, restless sleep was caused by that singular comment. Was he interested? I highly doubted it. That didn’t stop the idea invading my thoughts for the rest of the week; wondering where he was, what he was doing, who he was doing it with. I thought about calling him a few times, but dismissed it. I’d gotten a thank you for dinner message from him on the Tuesday that informed me he was up signing his own name until 2am.

_So, I should say thank you for your help and company yesterday._

I smiled, again in a room full of people.

_You’re very welcome, I enjoyed it immensely. Also, not sure I helped any?_

He was quiet for the next hour or so; I guess until he got another break in proceedings.

_You were a great help. I got to sign my name over and over while you cooked a lovely dinner. My wrist hurts today, though._

I smiled, and took the chance for a laugh.

_You sure that sprain is from writing, though?_

Quickly, he came back.

_Hardy har. Have a good day miss x_

I chuckled and left it at that. His humour was lovely and I’m so glad he took that the right way. I got through a heap of work in the next four days; I was thoroughly pumped by the time I got to the weekend. I was still getting questions at work about the screenplay and, still, I couldn’t say anything even if I wanted to.

By Friday I got curious and sent Ben a message. He’d complained a few times about being photographed going places in London while we were out and about on the Monday. My friends were having a lovely quiet dinner at their place on the Friday night, and I wondered if he wouldn’t like the peace and quiet.

Turns out he was in Sheffield with family, but thanked me for the invite. I thought perhaps I had read too much into our banter, and left it at that, until he called me back a short while later. I was in the kitchen helping with dinner, my phone in the lounge and it started ringing.

Louise walked into the kitchen, her face ashen, holding my phone. “Why is Benedict fucking Cumberbatch calling your phone? And how the HELL did you get his number?”

Adele laughed loudly. As far as my friends were concerned, my game was up. I took the call in the kitchen, on speaker phone, with my friends crowded around me silently. Was I doing anything on the weekend? No. Did I want to come to Sheffield and spend time with him? The crowd says yes. Was it a date? Maybe, we’ll see where it goes. Louise was already on her iPad organising a train ticket for the very next morning, and the earliest possible time she could get a ticket for.

I hung up from the call and the kitchen erupted into excited screams and squeals. Was I excited? I think I was, as much as I told myself it was _nothing;_ and it could very well have been nothing, but my heart was beating a little faster, and my temperature flushed. The next morning I was on my way to Sheffield to spend the weekend with Ben and his family.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I've mentioned this before, but this fanfic is born out of a novella I wrote, which means there are characters here that don't actually exist in real life. In this chapter, Ben has a brother. I *know* that's not factually accurate, but AU and all that...

**_Benedict_ **

Oh how I loved my days off. I packed a small bag and headed to Sheffield to spend a few days in the quiet with mum, dad, and my brother Robbie. It’s always lovely when I get to go back there, but I hardly get an extended run up there, so five days was glorious. We had family barbeques, I had nights at the pub with old school friends, and got into mischief, and generally lounged around getting spoilt by mum, who wanted to know the ins and outs of every project I had coming up.

“Are you working on the wife project?”

“The what project?” I looked at her over the back of the couch.

“You know, do you have a girlfriend?”

“No mum, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t”

“Well, get on it. Your father and I want grandkids.”

“Apparently being gay precludes you from children.” Robbie announced, walking into the lounge.

Robbie had finally come out to mum and dad last year, even though he told me when we were kids. I think I was about 18, and he was 15; he came home from school one afternoon crying. He’d been beaten up by some kids after he’d been caught kissing another boy. Pretty brave to be doing that outside in the open, at that age, and well... it was the 1990’s, so massively brave full stop. Thankfully the world is a more accepting place now.

Mum and dad were lovely about it, of course, but mum still gives him a ribbing occasionally about her desire for grandchildren.

“He could adopt,” I threatened, folding the newspaper over. “Beat me right to the chase.”

“Exactly, mum, Richard and I could adopt.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“Because we don’t want to.” He laughter trill.

“You dag,” I laughed at him. “Where is Richard, anyway?”

“Working, working, again.”

“Well, fashion waits for no one.” I mocked.

Robbie had met Richard at a fashion show I’d been invited to the year prior. Fashion, or any sort of envelope opening type event like that wasn’t my scene but it was definitely Robbie’s so I took him a long and, well, they’re a happily loved up couple now.

In the background of my mind, I’d noticed something odd was happening; and had gotten worse since the Monday. Sarah was popping into my mind constantly. I sat on the couch on the Friday night and contemplated calling her, to see what she was doing and wondered if she’d get on a train to Sheffield for lunch on the Saturday. So, you can imagine how weird it was when she sent me a text message on the Friday night.

_Going out for dinner and drinks at a friends’ house. Nice and quiet, no cameras. Keen?_

Sounded bloody fantastic to me, but getting to London in time would have been difficult.

_Might be a bit difficult. I’m currently in Sheffield at mum & dad’s. _

I put my phone down on the dinner table and watched it, waiting for a reply.

_Sounds like a fair excuse to me! Hope you’re having a nice relaxing time. I’ll bet mum’s rapt to see you._

I loved that the first thing she thought of wasn’t me relaxing, but how rapt mum was, and she was.

_I’m getting spoilt rotten. Catch up when I’m back in town?_

Again, I eyed my phone off.

_I’d love to, yes._

I was snapped out of my reverie by three sets of eyes watching me.

“What’s her name?” Robbie teased.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I feigned.

“Yes you do. You’ve got that look on your face. If you’re not dating her, you’re intrigued as hell and want to.”

“Well, I can’t really at the moment. We’re working together on a film for Twelve Two One. She wrote it, first feature length we’re going to produce.”

“What’s her name?” Mum brought a large pot of soup over to the table.

“Sarah.” I smiled. “Her name is Sarah, and she wrote the screenplay.”

“So you’re not seeing each other?” Now dad was in on it.

“No.” I shook my head. “No, we’re not dating.”

I stopped and looked at my phone, it was almost making my hand itch, as I waited for a response.

“Ask her to come up here.” Robbie gave me a playful shove on the shoulder.

“I was thinking about it.”

“Go on, do it,” Dad encouraged. “Never going to get anywhere looking at a blank screen.”

So I fired off a message.

_Unless you’re keen to catch the train up to Sheffield? I know a great place here that does home cooked meals._

The response felt like it took forever; it did, actually. A whole hour before I got a response.

_Are you sure you want me invading your personal time?_

Of course I was.

_Of course. I wouldn’t ask you otherwise. I can pick you up from Sheffield Station at about 11am if you catch an early train out?_

I excused myself to go to the next room and make a phone call; make or break time.

“Sarah.” I started, pulling the front door shut.

“Ben.” She sounded matter of fact. “This seems like a strange request.” Hell, it was almost practiced.

“Well, I enjoyed your company on Monday,” I offered. “I thought that perhaps we could get to know each other outside of the film project.”

“Oh.” There was genuine surprise in her voice. “Oh.”

“Is that a bad ‘oh’?” I was nervous as hell.

“No, I’m just surprised that you would want to spend time with me, that’s all.”

“Don’t be surprised,” I tried to relax her. “We have a spare bed here, you’re more than welcome.”

“Okay, are we going to have a discussion about what this means personally?” She came prepared with an arsenal of questions.

“It means I would like to spend time with you, and if you enjoy spending time with me, then maybe we can do it again.” I had no idea what else to say.

“Right.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” I teased. “Hell, bring the screenplay stuff if you want, or whatever you’re working on now.”

“So, strange question...” her voice disappeared.

“Yes?”

“Is this considered a date, then?”

I thought for a moment, it sort of was a date. “Uh, well it could be. I guess we’ll see how we go. We don’t have to if you want to remove the pressure?”

“I’ll be on the 7.30am train.” Sarah stated.

“Right, okay. Great. Well, I’ll meet you on the platform at the station.”

“Good night Ben.” She finished the discussion quickly.

“Good night Sarah.”

And just like that, she was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Sarah_ **

The train was quiet, and rattled along through the country side. I’d packed a light bag, some spare clothes and a spare pair of shoes should be we go out somewhere fancy for dinner. I’d never been to Sheffield in all my time, so I had no idea what to expect. The weather was cold, drizzle fine, and my umbrella perched precariously between my legs as I rocked back and forth with the motion of the train.

I put my ear buds in and listened to some songs run through on my iPod. Eventually I switched it over to classical music to concentrate on what I was reading, _Anna and the French Kiss_. Occasionally I looked up around me and watched people move to and fro, coming and going on the carriages, station after station, and wondered what they were all doing.

Head still buried in my book, the train rattled to a stop at the end of the line. Bag, umbrella, and book collected as I sorted myself and left the carried. I glanced around the platform quickly and couldn’t find Ben, a payphone keeping me company until he arrived; the train had arrived a bit early.

A throat clearing caught my attention. I looked up to find Ben standing in front of me; blue jeans, boots not laced up, a blue shirt underneath a navy blue knitted top, a beanie, scarf and sunglasses on. I would not have picked him in a fit.

“Ben?”

He smiled. “Good morning. Recognise me?”

“No,” I chuckled. “Is that the point?”

“It is. Excellent,” he removed his glasses and tucked them into the neck of his jumper.

We got a few knowing looks as we walked back toward the car park and headed off to his family home. At that point in time, I wasn’t sure I would be comfortable being underneath the watchful eye of his family for the entire weekend. I mean, that’s pretty big business meeting someone’s family, and we weren’t even dating, so how would that work?

Quite well, apparently; I met Wanda and Tim, both lovely, and Robbie who was an absolute scream, and was shown to a spare bedroom upstairs, next to the room Ben was sleeping in. A few suggestive comments were made, Ben blushing wildly. I don’t think the explanation that we weren’t actually dating made any sense to them, we still got given grief.

A cup of tea and Ben decided we should go for a look around town. His excuse was that I’d never seen Sheffield, and he wanted to get out and have a look around. Assurances were given that we would be home in time for dinner and we left in the family Defender.

“No little black car?” My lip curled up into a teasing smile as I climbed into the front seat.

Ben scoffed. “Yeah, but that is completely conspicuous in Sheffield.”

“Well, it stands out like dogs’ nuts in my neighbourhood, too.” I reminded him.

“Then you buy one, and it won’t. We’ll match.”

“Sure, do you want a kidney or a liver?”

“Both, both.”

The first hour was spent browsing a book store, the both of us taking off in different directions, Ben making sure not to stand too close to me in case he got caught on film by someone. We eventually met at the cash register, his sunglasses replaced on his face again.

“Isn’t that frustrating?” I started. “I mean, you can’t go out with a friend without worrying about getting photographed.”

“It is very frustrating. If we get photographed today, we’ll be dating whether we are or not.”

“Really? Have you actually dated anyone you’ve been linked with in the past twelve months?”

“Give me some names and I’ll tell you.”

I rattled off a list of about ten names, all but two of them met with a ‘no’, and the two that were met with a ‘yes’ were only very short term things.

“Very easy to work out when they’re just after selling something to a gossip column.”

“Far out,” I muttered. “Annoying?”

“Can be, yes.”

We managed lunch in a pub without Ben being spotted by anyone other than the barman. While we waited, I fished a book from my bag and started reading, Ben doing the same thing moments later.

“Table’s a bit tacky for books,” he mumbled, laying napkins out under his book.

“This side’s okay.” I looked around; it did look okay.

Feet shuffled under the table as we both move to get comfortable; I managed to kick Ben, and he managed to land a foot on my knee. Awkward apologies abound as we eventually settled into a quiet contemplation, the only sounds emanating from our corner being the turning of pages. Drinks arrived, followed shortly after by lunch.

“So.” Ben started, leaning into the table, “Do girls like you date guys like me?”

I coughed. “Sorry?”

“Well, I get a lot of attention, wanted or otherwise. My life is very different to yours. If we were to date, then your life would turn on its head.”

I pondered that for a few moments. “Do you have any idea how many of my friends would kill me to be in this spot here today?”

“The fact that your friends are jealous doesn’t answer my question.” He smiled slyly. “If I said to you, after our conversation last night that, yes, I would like to date you, then what would you say?”

I stopped chewing and put my knife and fork down, Ben looking on nervously. A thousand scenarios flashed through my mind’s eye all at once; media intrusion, photographers, fans, being followed. I knew very well from the fan perspective that I would be absolutely ridiculed on social media; I’d seen it happen to almost every girl he’d been linked to.

“That would change a girls’ life rather dramatically,” I offered, resuming my lunch.

“It would.” He agreed. “I know for myself how much my life has changed in two years.”

“If it were me,” I looked at Ben, “then I would be almost inclined to want to stay out of the public eye. I would want to remain as normal as possible, looking at how hamstrung you are trying to have a normal life. I don’t know that I’d want that. Does that make sense?”

“Do you think a relationship could work like that?”

“I think so. But I’m not sure I would enter into one.” I nodded. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

I spent the rest of lunch wondering if we’d just discussed terms of a relationship that hadn’t yet started. It seemed a little strange, considering the conversation had ended almost as quickly as it had begun. If I was confused at all, that was nothing compared to what had happened after lunch. We continued our shopping jaunt, Ben not buying a lot, but I indulged myself in some new clothes. On the way out of one last shop, lost in a discussion of Orson Welles, when the heavens opened up and rain poured down.

We took shelter quickly in a bus stop with a myriad of other people who had the same idea. I laughed as we got pushed, rather uncomfortably into the corner. It was awkward, not uncomfortable, but we were getting pushed into each other as more people crammed in. I was tucked in the corner, facing out, Ben facing the back wall of the shelter. Bracing himself against the back wall, hand above my head, he looked down at me and laughed.

“What?” I whispered.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“You look horrified.”

“I do not,” I chuckled.

“Yeah you do.”

“Do not.”

One more push and I was stood up straight against the back wall, Ben jammed up against me. The only thing separating us was our clothing. I looked awkwardly at Ben, then over his shoulder, to people around him, one or two strange looks at the familiar looking man in their bus stop. I closed my eyes a moment and took a deep breath.

In that moment, everything changed. My skin tingled at his touch, setting fire to everything inside me; a gentle thumb on my cheek, finger tips on my neck, and lips against mine. Soft like the warmest hug, he kissed me gently, over and over, nothing too daring or unacceptable for the general public around us.

The rain cleared to a light drizzle and people started to leave the shelter, happy enough to risk the walk to their cars, which is what we did as well. I sat in the front seat of the car, shopping tucked safely in the back. Ben took his seat and looked across at me. I hadn’t made eye contact with him since leaving the bus shelter.

“What’s -.”

“Was that the right thing for us to do?” Finally, I looked at him.

“The fact you’re asking me that tells me you think the answer is no.” He looked dejected, and I felt terrible.

“I think it might not be a great idea while we’re working on the film.”

“It could be 18 months before that’s over with, though.”

“Yeah, I know.” I rubbed my face. “This, thing, if this happens, that means massive life changes for me.”

“You said yourself you wanted to maintain a normal existence with your job, didn’t you?”

I did, but that would be near impossible. “You are quite possibly one of the biggest celebrities out at the moment. You pop up on the television at work and women crowd around it going absolutely gaga. You are in magazines everywhere. Hell, we’re probably being photographed now, and that idea creeps me out completely. Every girl dreams of Prince Charming coming in, sweeping them off their feet and all that tosh, but I don’t want to have to live in secrecy like you do.”

“Do you want to go somewhere private to talk about this?”

“What? Your parents’ house?”

We went to the Peace Gardens, grabbed a coffee and walked around largely unnoticed. I hated feeling this way, completely conflicted. I wanted to explore things with Ben, but I knew I couldn’t handle being photographed, chased and, ultimately the subject of scorn and derision.

“What are you worried about? Talk to me.” We walked around with our heads down, faced buried in coffee, hopefully looking like every other couple walking around.

“Well. Okay.” I took a deep breath. “I have seen your fan sites online. I’ve seen lots of them. They aren’t exactly complimentary to anyone you’re seen with and I will become one of them. One of the hated. I know how it works.”

“But it’s what I think about you that matters, and not them. All those girls don’t know me, not at all. Hell, you’ve probably only scratched the surface.”

“I don’t know if I could, Ben. I mean, I hate my job, my current job. I want to make screenwriting a full time thing,”

“Hmmm. Well you know Adam’s already keen on your next screenplay.”

“I don’t think I want to live your life, though. I don’t want red carpets, constantly on show. I mean look at you, we’re in a public park and you’re in a beanie, glasses and scarf so people don’t recognise you. Anonymity is good.”

“Well I wouldn’t deny you what you wanted. The red carpet stuff can be fun, but very daunting, too, so I understand that.”

“Can I just think about it? I mean, I know I came here today and we talked a little about it last night and it was all very exciting, but there’s a big difference in hanging out to work and well, hanging out.”

“There is, and I’ll tell you something. I was so comfortable in your house that night we came over with the story boards. It was just welcoming; there was no pressure, well, except for Adele.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, well she’s not backwards in coming forward.”

A few more moments and Ben stopped walking. “How long do you want to think about it?”

I shrugged. “Not sure, but we will talk about this again. Let’s just, like you said, have a bit of fun this weekend.”

He was satisfied with that.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Benedict_ **

That was the first time in a long time I’d actually had someone ask if I’d asked them on a date. I’d seen a few girls in the past twelve months, all of whom automatically assumed I’d asked them on a date. Not Sarah. I guess technically we were ‘in business’ together so she probably thought I was asking her up to talk about the film. I figured that would take up a bit of her time in Sheffield, but I did actually just want to spend time with her; get to know her on a more personal level.

The glare of London often made that difficult without it ending up in a tabloid rag, but Sheffield was normally pretty good to me. I had an incident once because I was dating a model, that was ten levels of crazy, but it had died down since then and I find myself mostly left alone by locals. All my old friends lived here, baring a few, and it was a great place to unwind and relax.

Notwithstanding, I stood on the platform at the train station rugged up for winter; jacket, beanie, scarf and sunglasses for glare. I was more nervous than usual and I waited impatiently, even though the train arrived early. I got a few sideways glances from people, a few young girls, but kept my head down and they left me alone.

The train rolled into the station and I was taken back immediately, sucking a lungful of air in. There she was, sitting in the train, head buried in a book. It was a complete contrast to what I had been used to in women recently; it excited me and made me nervous all at the same time. I saw her as someone smart enough to give me a run for my money. Not that I was a genius by any stretch, but we’d had some great conversations previously and I had no doubt she could handle herself well within the confines of my work. Truth be told, I also wanted more of her lifestyle as well; quiet, away from prying eyes.

In fact, she still had her head buried in her book as I watched her alight the carriage, took a quick look around the platform and stood by a payphone. The fact she hadn’t seen me a few meters away made me laugh, it was a nice change.

When her eyes met mine, standing there on the platform, I knew I’d made the right decision to ask her up here. I also knew she’d get along well with my family, which she did. She hit it off with Robbie immediately, the both of them reduced to tears of laughter very quickly. Mum and dad took to her with kind, and that’s all I could ask of them. They were very protective of me since everything started going right in my career.

In amongst the late lunch, I had to field text messages from Robbie.

_Kissed her yet? Come on, get along with it. She’s cute._

I smiled at his message; he never was backwards in coming forward.

_No, not yet. I’m not like you; I like to establish rapport first._

It wasn’t long and he’d replied. One word only.

_Bitch._

My brother had called me a bitch.

She really was cute; mousy brown hair, bright blue eyes, no pretence, no snobbery, no need to be the most important person in the room, fiercely independent and passionate about her work.

I broached the subject gently, I thought, and she responded with a rational, mature discussion of what could be the negatives for her life, which I agreed with completely. I always thought that after marrying, or even when I’d just found ‘The One’ that we would perhaps move out of the spotlight of London to raise our small family away from prying eyes. We didn’t get to discussing that, though, I figure that it’s way too much to even be looking down that path yet.

By late afternoon, though, I’d been firmly rejected and, honestly, felt a little bit sulky; like the dog dragging its tail between its legs. I’d kissed Sarah when we took shelter in a bus stop and I think it freaked her out a little bit. It was a lovely kiss, though. I think it freaked me out a little bit, too. I hadn’t felt that nervous since I’d had my first few acting auditions, and with good reason, too.

Sarah was, thankfully, thinking out loud, her mouth moving a million miles an hour, all with reasons as to why we shouldn’t strike up anymore than a friendship. A very mature part of her didn’t want anything while we were working on the film. Could we separate personal and business? I hoped so, but she wasn’t so convinced. Either way, I think she’d put the brakes on it for the moment, and we returned to my parents’ house in silence.

Dinner was lively, Robbie and Sarah had latched onto each other, laughing loudly and at the most crass jokes they could muster together. Robbie was proudly showing off Richard’s work, which she browsed excitedly, Robbie offering to send Richard around with a few samples of his work. She could be a complete girl when she wasn’t busy throwing her wrecking ball around, and eagerly accepted the offer.

Most of the night was spent in the kitchen, Sarah helping mum with the dishes, much to her appreciation.

“Well, would you look at that,” she teased. “The guest offers to help, but my two boys sit there sinking beer.”

“There’s three boys here, mum,” Robbie pointed at Dad.

“No, he’s a man. You two are boys.”

Sarah laughed heartily, burying her face in her elbow. I was relieved to see her laughing so openly; I was afraid that I’d made her uncomfortable, which is the last thing I wanted to see. So, to see her laugh was a great relief. Apparently I was staring at her, so Robbie informed me with a kick to the shin.

“Stop staring,” he leant across the table in a whisper.

“I’m not staring.” My own voice as hushed as it could be.

“Sarah, Ben tells us you’re working together on a screenplay.” Mum interrupted all of us.

“Yes. Yes.” She nodded. “We’ve gone through all the edits, haven’t we?” Sarah looked to me for approval.

“Yeah, we’re just up to location scouting now. Adam’s got a few things in mind, but we’ll worry about that at work next week.”

“At work,” I scoffed. “You’re always at work.”

“Yes, but I didn’t bring _you_ here to talk shop, did I?”

Sarah blushed wildly, and mum told me off. Dad got up and offered coffee liquor to everyone, much appreciated and more barriers broken down, ending in a game of poker around the dinner table. Sarah excused herself early to go for a shower and head to bed, and I took off not much longer after having a chat with dad.

“So, how’d you go today?” He handed me a glass of scotch and we stood outside on the back decking underneath the porch.

“Fifty, fifty I think, really. I didn’t really get a yes; I didn’t really get a no.”

“How so?”

“She’s worried about the press intrusion, fan reaction, complicating work. I kissed her though.”

Dad chuckled. “How did that work for you?”

“Not sure. It was good.” I chuckled with him. “It was definitely good.”

“Just give it a bit of time. You’re supposed to be this big celebrity thing aren’t you? I don’t know, I haven’t seen anything you’ve been in.”

Good ol’ dad. Always knew how to bring me back down to earth.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to, either.”

“You’re a guy, she’s a girl. If it’s meant to work, it’ll work.”

“There’s something there, though,” I reasoned. “But you’re right, it’ll work if it’s meant to work I guess.”

“Don’t scare her off. We like her.”

“You do?”

“We do. She’s lovely; smart, vibrant, a good match for you.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and opened the door. “I’m heading to bed for the night. Good night dad.”

“Night, son.”

Robbie had already taken off, and mum was in bed as well. I crept up the stairs slowly, avoiding the fourth step; notoriously creaky late at night. Sarah’s door was open, and I was surprised to hear her voice resound out of the room.

“Good night Ben,” she offered.

I walked over to her door. “You awake still? You’ve been up here a while.”

“Yep. Strange bed, can’t sleep.”

I ventured into the room and sat on the bed, taking her hand in mine. Nerves took over as I tried to think of the best way to form my words. Eventually, something came out; not sure it was proper English though.

“So, the things we talked about today.”

“Yep.”

“I’m happy to give you all the time you need to think about it. I would like you to know, though, that I am really very keen to explore what we have. I think we’ve had a lot of fun lately, especially stuff that doesn’t revolve around work.”

She laughed at that suggestion. It was true, though.

“I’m definitely thinking about it.”

“What are your thoughts at the moment?” Maybe that was too pushy, but I wanted to know.

“A woman’s thoughts are her own,” she teased.

“Oh come on. Are they about me? I think they’re good for sharing if they’re about me.”

The most glorious giggle filled the room. “Good night Mr. Cumberbatch.”

I leant down and kissed her forehead, before kissing her on the mouth. This time, she responded positively, her hand rested on the back of my neck. It was definitely right if what I was feeling was anything to go by. Despite her initial reluctance, I was surprised that she took the initiative with the kiss, helping herself to my mouth with her tongue. Glorious, absolutely glorious. I left her shortly after and went to bed feeling like the king of the castle.


	19. Chapter 19

**_Sarah_ **

The kiss was not discussed. Not the next morning over breakfast, after breakfast, or anything near it. I left on an early afternoon train bound for London so I could tidy up and ready for work the next day. I wasn’t overly concerned by the lack of talking. It was a bit hard with a house full of family, so we just enjoyed the day under the veranda; Ben reading scripts and me with my manuscripts. We scored a few comments about how we were mirroring each other, which was quite funny. I suppose we did look quite odd.

We had our set locations meeting Monday night, and I was getting more and more frustrated. The locations picked didn’t suit my visions, some of them even going completely against what I’d envisioned for the story. Ben could see I was getting frustrated and kept explaining the reasons he and Adam had picked the locations they had. There was a bit of discussion about certain places that just weren’t available, for whatever reason, council restrictions, and what have you.

“I get the council restrictions. I don’t get these changes here that seem to be changes just because you can change them.” I looked between the two of them, something silent passing between Adam and Ben at that moment. “Don’t give each other ‘the look’. I know what that look is.”

“Sometimes changes need to be made to help the dramatic effect.”

I rubbed my face and sighed. “Sure, okay. Whatever.”

“No, not whatever, Sarah.” Ben looked at me. “Not whatever. There are so many things we need to think about when shooting this. We can’t just fling ourselves over to Cardiff because you want 30 seconds of footage.

“You can’t find somewhere that _looks_ like it?” I picked up a storyboard. “I mean this scene was written inside a bunker, and you’ve got them locked in a supermarket. Really. You can’t make a shipping container or two look like a bunker?”

“Not on our budget, no.”

“Oh, so it’s money based now. Make the most money without having to spend it. You think because you’ve taken me out to dinner a few times that you can just pull the wool over my eyes and I’ll be okay with it?”

“Right. I’m done today. Had enough. You can come back when you’ve calmed down. You can stop provoking her, you’re like children.” Adam stood up and closed his folio.

“I’m just trying to explain, though, in simple terms why -.”

I cut Ben off with a glare. “So, I’m simple now?” This time I stood up, grabbed my jacket and left before either of them. “This is ridiculous. It’s supposed to be an exciting time for me. For all of us.” I called out as I walked down the stairs.

“Sarah, come back here please!” Ben called after me.

I walked out, onto the street just in time to hop on the next bus; this time before Ben managed to catch me. I went straight from the meeting back to work. I didn’t have time to waste that day; I had enough work in my 9 – 5 job, let alone adding the film on nights and weekends. I stormed into my office, threw my bag on the floor and disappeared to the coffee machine. Mail was sorted, both physical and electronic, before I sifted through a pile of manuscripts I had for editing.

I’d hardly made it ten pages into the first one when I saw some commotion outside my office. Heads were turning towards reception; people were standing up, rubbernecking at something that was happening. My phone rang.

“Sarah Watford.” I answered.

“Sarah, there’s a gentleman here to see you,” came a hushed voice down the line. “I think you should come out here.”

I rolled my eyes and walked out of my office to reception. Ben.

“Got a minute?”

“What, you want to talk about this now?” I scoffed.

“I don’t want to, I need to.”

“Why do you need to?” I stood on the opposite side of the reception desk, arms folded over. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed an office of thirty people on their feet. A few of them scattered as I leant across and closed the door connecting reception and the office.

“Can you come outside please?”

I huffed angrily and followed him outside, only to stand in silence for the next few minutes. Meanwhile, a throng of my colleagues lined themselves up against the windows to see what was going on.

“You better dance.” I glared at him.

“Dance?”

“You have an audience.” I pointed to the office windows behind him. “Why did you come here? Are you trying to make a scene?”

“Not in the slightest. The only one causing a scene is the one who has greeted me like I’ve just killed her hamster.”

“Hamster?” I shook my head. “Right, okay. I’m busy, what do you need?”

“I need you to calm down and listen to me for a minute.”

I stood, waiting for him to talk.

“Right,” he began. “We aren’t trying to change your story, we aren’t trying to change the message, and we aren’t trying to change the film. What we’re trying to do is work within budget constraints. I need you to trust us on this. Please don’t make this difficult.”

“So, it’s all me? I feel like I’m being pegged into a corner, you guys have taken what you wanted and run with it. Yet, here I am, because I stand up for myself I’m the one being difficult,” I scoffed. “I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised though, that’s what happens to women in every vocation. They stand up for themselves and suddenly they’re difficult.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Sarah.”

“So why am I being difficult then?”

“Because you are!” he yelled. “Every single time something doesn’t go your way, you stomp and huff and walk out. We’re all sick of it. Yes, even me.”

“Then go.” I pointed to the car park. “You don’t want to hear what I have to say, then go.”

“I’ve heard what you have to say. We’ve all heard. Now you need to understand what _we_ are saying.”

We’d hit a stalemate. Perhaps I didn’t know the ins and outs of the industry, but I also didn’t want to see my story boiled down to fit some budget, or to make something easier for someone else. Now, on top of all that, I had a Hollywood celebrity picking a fight with me on the doorstep of my work place.

“So what do we do, then?” I looked at Ben, hoping he had something worked out. “You’ve come to my work, made a scene. I haven’t told anyone in there about you, now that’s _all_ I’ll be doing for the rest of the day, thank you very much.”

“I’m sorry, I just had to talk to you about it. I have to fly out to Edinburgh tonight for the rest of the week. I had to sort this because I don’t like seeing you upset.”

He didn’t like seeing me upset? Where did that come from? I was sure I was looking at him strangely. Sure, we’d gone out for dinner a few times; and by going out I mean we’d eaten in his kitchen and talked into the early hours about the film. He’s invited me out to Sheffield, where we kissed a few times, but nothing more has come of it yet.

I frowned at him. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said I don’t like seeing you upset. You’re right. This should be an exciting time for you, and for all of us. Your first, our biggest. It should be full of happiness.” He relaxed back into his stance, hands shoved in his pockets. “I think I’m having a dinner party next week, and I’d like you to come so as we can talk about this more.”

“Are we going back to that cycle?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Of course not. I’m asking you to come because there will be some people from the industry there. Our interaction has been very... closed so far. So maybe if you had a chance to talk to other people then you might get a better idea of what we’re doing.”

“After you’ve worded them up?”

“Not at all.” His head shook fiercely. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Do you trust me?”

Did I? My gut said yes, and I hoped I could trust it.

“I think I do. Should I?”

“Okay. I’ll send you some details and we’ll organise from there, okay?”

I nodded. “Sure, whatever. I’m probably not going to win this one anyway, am I?”

“Know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em.” He smiled.

“Don’t quote Kenny Rogers to me,” I groaned. “Really Ben?”

He chuckled. “See you shortly.” He leant in quickly and gave me a kiss on the cheek, then turned and walked away to his car.


	20. Chapter 20

**_Benedict_ **

We were swinging from one extreme to the other. From a few shared kisses in Sheffield to screaming matches over set locations. I did my best to try and explain things to Sarah, but she’d gotten worked up to the point that I think she’d blocked her ears to the words. Her passion overrode her common sense at times. I saw her points, completely. It was her vision, and we were tinkering with it, but for good reason. Yes, some of it was budgetary; some of it was for cinematographic appeal.

My week was due to be insanely busy, a pain getting back into gear after a few days home, and this didn’t help. She’d taken me from feeling on top of the world, to throwing me off the edge of a cliff in a matter of minutes. Adam had already said he was sick of Sarah, and had wished he’d pushed her out of the project at negotiating. A bit harsh, but I accepted his criticism. Jack was done. After she’d walked out our meeting over locations, Jack threw his hands in the air.

“I’m done with her, I’m sorry. I know this is her egg she’s waiting on hatching, but to hell with it Ben.”

I’m not sure why this came back on me; perhaps it was the friendship I’d established with Sarah that the other two hadn’t. Maybe it was that she felt comfortable enough with me to voice her opinion, so her upset was generally directed at me.

I left the meeting and headed to her workplace; I wanted to smooth things over as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to appear to be uncaring, even though I had to be somewhere directly after the meeting. I was off filming for the rest of the week in Edinburgh, also, so didn’t want to leave it too long.

I managed to get her to a calm point, and agreeing to come to a dinner party at my place. Organised at late notice, but maybe it would give her a chance to rub shoulders with others in the industry and talk to them about just how things work. She’d only seen things happening from inside our closed circle. Of course I made the mistake of kissing her on the cheek in front of her workplace.


	21. Chapter 21

**_Sarah_ **

My photo was in a local rag paper the next day. In fact, it wasn’t just a photo of me; it was a photo of Ben giving me a kiss on the cheek. Someone I worked with felt the need to send the picture to said paper. They also informed them that we were having some sort of relationship dispute. That was enough to turn my world upside down and inside out.

I tried to leave for work the next day, but found it near impossible with a number of photographers sitting out front of my apartment waiting for me to leave. Poor Adele had to shuffle through them to get to the bus stop. I considered leaving the house to go to work, but thought it best I didn’t. Panic set in first, and then anger and a screaming match with my boss followed about who had sold pictures and personal information.

Ben was on the phone early, apologised profusely, wanted to know if I needed someone to drive me to work and was there anything else he could do. We’d been linked as lovers now in the media, which was going to make for some interesting times ahead. From his experience it would die down soon enough apparently. Not soon enough for me.

“Do you need anything? Can I organise anything for you?” He was going out of his way to try and help.

“Uh, you can get rid of these people from my front yard?” I stood in our small lounge and looked down towards the street.

“I’ll see if I can get the police around. How many are there?”

I did a quick head count. “About 15?”

“Alright. I’m really sorry about this.”

“It’s okay, you can’t control this.” I huffed. “Plus, if I hadn’t been sold out by a supposed work friend, we wouldn’t be having this issue.”

“Yeah, but -.”

“But nothing; it’s not your fault.” I answered.

“Alright. Can you call me and tell me if it dies down?”

“Will do. Thanks Ben.”

“Bye Sar,”

I sat up in my kitchen, watched and waited. It took a few hours, but the police did get there eventually, and the crowds disappeared. Adele got home from work, we discussed how we were going to handle it. My agent called and, again, discussed how we were going to handle it. The tried and tested ‘No Comment’ line was going to be wheeled out and, the next day when it came to go to work, I was just going to push through the throng, keep my head down and walk away. Fingers crossed they weren’t following me on to the bus.

There was no one waiting the next morning, but there was still someone around. Or a few people; I was reliably informed when I got to work that my photo was, again, all over social media less than an hour after leaving my home. I also spent the rest of the day trying to convince people I wasn’t in a relationship with Ben. Technically, I wasn’t.

Human Resources had apparently been on the phone to the newspaper that originally printed the pictures; both mine and Ben’s agents had been on the phone threatening legal action. The person responsible was found out and dealt with. Desk packed and sacked by the end of the day. This time, I didn’t feel bad about it.

I fired off a quick text to Ben.

_I know you’re busy now, but the issue has been sorted from my end._

I didn’t hear from him again until later that night when he finished shooting. I was stuck at work, probably avoiding the trip home, and just wanting to get some more work done, try and get ahead a bit.

“Hello.” I smiled into the phone.

“Hey, how are you? Is everything okay on your end?” he sounded rushed, but still concerned.

“Yeah, I think so. Still must’ve had someone follow me to work this morning. More photos were online this morning.”

“I don’t know what we’re going to do except wait for it to die down. I mean, they should forget about it in a week or so.”

“I hope so,” I huffed. “I still need this job.”

“I know. I’ve had Angela working on it, and I think she’s talked to your agent as well.”

“I think she has, yes.” I agreed.

“I’ll look after it. I promise.”

“Let’s talk about something else, shall we? What are you doing in Edinburgh?”

“Just a spot for a few episodes of Heartbeat.”

I laughed. “Get out. International superstar on Heartbeat? That’s glorious.”

“Looked like a bit of fun. Got to wear a uniform, not all is lost.” He chuckled.

“Well, I might have to come around and watch it when it airs, then.”

“I’d like that. How are you doing otherwise? Have you given any more thought to the set locations?”

“Honestly, I haven’t had the brain capacity to with all this other stuff going on.” I offered and, really, I hadn’t.

“What I think would be good, besides talking to other people in the business, is if you come out to set when we film some of these scenes. Particularly the ones you’re worried about. What do you think about that?”

“What do I think? I think that’s not such a bad idea, but you might need to run it past Adam. I’m told he’s not a fan.”

“Adam will be fine. He’s just as annoyed at me as he is at you.”

“Oh hell.” I stopped. “Really?”

“It’ll be alright. Are you at home yet?”

“No, just going to pack up here and get going. Figured it might be easier under the cover of darkness.”

“Good luck with that theory,” he teased. “Tried. Failed.”

“If this is half as bad as your world, I don’t know that I want in it.”

“I can look after you, you know.”

I sighed. “Yeah, it’s not you I’m worried about.” I reasoned. “It’s every other raving lunatic. Did you know I’ve had fifteen thousand friend requests on Facebook today? What’s with that?”

All he could do was laugh. “Maybe you need to get off of it then. I did.”

“Yeah maybe. Talk to me while I walk to the bus stop?”

Ben chatted to me the entire way home, which was nice. It kept my mind off the idea of watching out for people; the paranoia had kicked in and I hated it. I hoped like hell it had died off by the weekend. I had to go to Ben’s house on the Saturday morning, the last thing I needed was to be photographed going in there.


	22. Chapter 22

**_Benedict_ **

Our photo was in the paper and I had to sort it out. Quickly.

Sarah was beside herself. There were paparazzi waiting out the front of her home. One of her work colleagues had snapped pictures of the two of us and obviously on sold them to the highest bidder. Good money if you could get it, I guess. Either way, everything she was worried about was happening.

“Angela, how did these ones get through the net?” She was the first person I called once I was off the phone with Sarah.

“I’m sorry Ben, I don’t know. We can’t control everything.”

“Get them out of circulation. I want Sarah protected. Make it happen. You know I don’t get cranky much, but today I’m angry. Call the police and get them around to her house.”

“I know, Ben, I’m sorry. We’re doing what we can now to get rid of them, though it’s going to be hard with them out in cyberspace now.”

“Do what you can Angela, thank you.”

I switched my phone off and walked onto set; it was going to be a very long few days. Or at least I thought so. Sarah sent me a brief message the next day to say that things had been sorted from her end. I wanted to concentrate on filming first, but gave her a call at the end of my day, about 7.00pm to make sure she was okay. Also, I just really wanted to talk to her. Busy with her 9 – 5 job, she was still there when I called and we had a lively chat as she travelled home via her usual bus route.

We talked about what I’d done during the day. Did I enjoy it? What exactly was I doing? What she was up to, and the fact that she was going out to the movies on Friday night with some friends. I complained that I’d love to go to the pictures but wouldn’t be back in London in enough time.

I didn’t hear from Sarah again for the rest of the week; I had to initiate contact if I wanted any. I wondered if I should take that as her not being interested, so I asked her. Better to know than to waste time.

“So it’s Friday,” I started slowly, when I called her after my last day of filming.

She giggled down the line. “Yes, Ben, it is.”

“And I was just thinking I hadn’t heard from you all week.”

“We spoke last night.” She defended. “You called.”

“That’s right. I called. I’m just wondering, and please correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m being left with the stark impression you aren’t interested in me.”

“What makes you say that?” she seemed suddenly alert to the conversation.

“Well, you haven’t really gone out of your way to contact me. I seem to be -.”

She cut me off. “Listen here, big celebrity. Are you a busy man?”

“Well, yes.”

“Okay. I’m a busy lady. You’re a busy man. I never said I wasn’t interested. I asked you to let me think about it, and then I kissed you anyway. Now, I’m pretty sure even I can work out what that means. Do you want me calling you all the time?”

“Well, no.”

“And are you a very busy man? Working all day?”

“I am,” I admitted.

“Right, so I figure at these early proceedings then perhaps I don’t need to be on the phone to you all day every day. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ll never need to be on the phone all day every day with you.”

“Oh. So you’re not one of those ‘need to contact every day otherwise she gets suspicious’ type girls?”

She snorted. “Ummm, no, not unless you’re giving me reason to be suspicious. Can I trust you to tell me the truth?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Well, then. We’ll be just fine, then. Won’t we?”

I bumbled around a bit; she’s just surprised the hell out of me. “I guess we will be.”

“We’ll work it out. Whatever is meant to happen.”

I hung up feeling a lot better about my place. Not normally worried about that sort of stuff, I was feeling a little in the lurch after Sheffield and the fact that we hadn’t really discussed it the morning after, or since for that matter. It was then that I decided that whatever her terms of engagement were, she was going to get them.

The first thing I did was to call some friends and change the venue of the dinner party to their house instead of mine. At least that way Sarah would be able to arrive anonymously if she wanted to.


	23. Chapter 23

**_Sarah_ **

I was surprised that the dinner party had been moved, but Ben had messaged me to let me know early on the Saturday that the address had changed to that of his friend. His explanation was that it would allow me to move relatively freely around town and allow us to arrive separately. Thankfully I hadn’t had any more photographers turn up for the duration of the week, and the flutter online had died down. Adele had been all over it and, on her advice, I stayed away from it. I didn’t want to know, she told me. That told me everything I needed to know.

I didn’t think to dress up too much. Jeans, a nice shirt, a pair of flats, my little coin purse and phone stuffed in my pocket and I was on my way out the door.

“Enjoy your night!” Adele called. “Be careful you life ruiner, you!”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously. We’re not even together.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, we’re not,” I assure her. “Not to the best of my knowledge, anyway.”

“Got condoms just in case you need them?”

I huffed. “Really Adele? Really?”

“Be prepared, girl scout.”

I laughed and closed the front door behind me.

I stood at the front door of the address given and looked around; another unassuming house in the upper west side, only a few kilometres from Ben’s house. Traffic buzzed around the streets, people walked past with dogs, nothing untoward and nothing special about the area I was in. I knocked nervously. Not only did I not know Ben’s friends, he was now dragging me right into their lives. Celebrities in their own right, I could have only dreamt of this years ago. Now here I was, doing it, rubbing shoulders with people I admired hugely.

A quick knock and I stood back and waited.

The door opened quickly.

“We were wondering when you were going to knock!” It was Anna Marney, costume designer for the BBC.

“Hello.” I smiled at her nervously. “I’m -.”

“Sarah, come on in.” She cut me off, nearly dragging me inside. “Ben is out in the yard.”

“Oh, lovely, thank you.”

Uncharacteristically warm weather for an October, but that made it lovely enough to be outside with a cider, which I procured on my way through to the yard. A quick scan of the backyard located Ben sitting in a tight circle of friends, laughing hysterically until one of them nodded in my direction.

“Ahh, the mystery girl!” Ben stood up, walked across and wrapped me in a hug. “How are you?”

“Good,” I laughed. He’d managed to bury my face in his neck. “How are you?”

“Very good.” He leant into my ear. “Object to a kiss?”

Arms still wrapped around each other, very aware we were being watched, I pulled back just enough to have a mumbled conversation with him.

“Is it going to end up leaked?”

“I guarantee you it will not.”

“We do still need to have some sort of proper discussion about whether or not this is happening.”

“Don’t over complicate it. Yes or no?”

“Okay.” I smiled, letting him take a very chaste nip at my lips.

“Come, meet my friends.”

I’d met Anna Marney, Valentine Rowling, David Wedderburn, Jesse Martin, Lucy Sewell, Isabelle Green, Ernest Townsend and Fry MacIntosh, all involved in the film industry. David and Valentine as actors, Jesse, Lucy, Isabelle, Ernest and Fry were all involved behind the scenes as the film makers. I felt like I was continually getting slapped in the face. I should be getting used to being around celebrities, I should. I had to, really, but I was still astounded that I had managed to be in that position.

Ben paid close attention to how I was getting on throughout the afternoon, also leaving me alone to fend for myself quite a bit as well, which was nice. We ate a fantastic array of foods, drank some very expensive alcohol and spent the afternoon chatting not too much about film and television, but about general everyday life.

“So, how you going?” Ben pulled a chair butt up against mine and leant into my arm rest.

“Good, really good; a little overwhelmed, but good.”

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yes, just, I’m not used to moving in these types of circles.”

“Better get used to it.” He smiled. “Have you had a chat to Fry yet?”

“No, why?”

“He’s a location scout for BBC.”

“Wow.”

“Not really, it’s just a job.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I know that, but still, wow.”

Ben chuckled. “I’ve got some pictures to show you.”

“Oh? Of what?”

“Of my shoot during the week.”

“Uniform.” I smiled, taking his phone from him and scrolling through.

Who was I kidding? Millions of girls would kill to be in my position. Here I was sitting with Ben going through his phone, pictures of him in a WW2 Army uniform, and also period costume from the time; insanely good looking. His hair primped and preened into a style of the time, instead of let loose on his head like it currently was.

“I love the hair,” I mused. “Really, really like the style.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, suits you.” I nodded. “Definitely.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Welcome. Did you have fun?”

“Had a ball. Was nice to do just a short thing. I mean I’ve got a solid month of rehearsals for Twelfth Night before that opens, then I’ve got that for three months.”

“Keeps you in London at least.”

“Yeah, I’m a big fan of that. I might be able to have some sort of social life.” He hinted. “You know, go out to lunch or dinner, or whatever.”

“I know what you’re doing.” I smiled, handing his phone back.

We were interrupted by Fry, taking a seat under an umbrella with us.

“Ben tells us you wrote the screenplay for _Interminable_?” He smiled politely.

“I did, yes. Written during lunch breaks and quiet periods at work.”

“What do you do for work, when you’re not writing stuff this guy loves?” He joked, pointing at Ben.

“I work in publishing. Mostly the editing of manuscripts.”

“Ahhh, explains why yours was so polished.”

“A few things to change, but yeah.”

“Have they changed much?”

“Well, a few things, yes, a couple of script changes and location changes.”

Fry threw his head back. “Urgh. Set locations. I found a great one for a gangster crime series I’m working on at the moment. Dirty little back alley way, used for a couple of scenes. It was just perfect. BBC said no, too much effort, money, blah, blah, to take all the equipment out there for less than 60 second of film. Devastated.”

I shook my head. “Really? What about the authenticity of the story?”

“I don’t think the authenticity of the story suffered. It worked well in the end, I was just annoyed it didn’t match my original vision. Once I saw the finished product on screen, though, amazing.”

I looked at Ben. “Did you pay him to say that?”

“No?” Fry sounded confused.

Ben chuckled. “We’re currently having disagreements about set locations. Sarah’s expectations versus reality.”

“My expectations?” I laughed. “Your expectations that you can just change everything.”

“How many scenes is he trying to upend?”

“Upend!” Ben baulked. “Please.”

I looked at him.

“Okay, about 8.”

“Eight’s not bad.” Fry nodded. “Just go to set when they’re filming, make sure you’re happy with it. If not, then give him grief.”

“Oh, I’ll be there. Don’t you worry.”

“She’ll be there.” Ben agreed. “Driving me insane.”

“Sure, sure.” I smiled. “Whatever you say.”

Afternoon became evening and I was soon fielding text messages from Adele wanting to know who I was with, what was happening with Ben, was I coming home from dinner?

“Who’s holding your attention?” Ben brought another drink over to me.

“Oh, Adele wants to know if I’ll be home for dinner.” I waved my phone. “Not sure yet.”

“Tell her no. We’ll go out for dinner.”

“Where are we going?”

“Might take you out to the pub around the corner.”

“Oh, might you?”

“I might.” He shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Want to come out for dinner?”

“I’d love to come out for dinner.”

“Good. I’ll book us a table then.”

A private booth in a pub; that was us sorted for dinner. Out the back, away from other patrons, and left alone.

“You really need to do this?”

“Want your photo in the paper again?”

“Fair point.” I smirked.

“So, yes.”

If we hadn’t consumed enough alcohol over the course of the afternoon, we made sure we had by the end of the night. It was after midnight by the time we left the pub, the last to leave at the insistence of the owner, who was now sitting down and drinking with us. A sneaky cab trip back to Ben’s house and I decided I should get the cab back to my place.

“No, no,” he whispered. “Come inside. I want you to come inside. I make coffee.”

“No you won’t, you’ll give me more alcohol.”

“Possibly, yes. Come on.” He took my hand and pulled me out of the cab before settling the fare.

“Oh, that’s very bright.” Ben winced as the front porch light lit up the darkness surrounding us.

I flopped out onto his couch; oversized and over comfortable, I sank right into the cushions and got comfortable. Ben flitted around his kitchen, bringing back a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“I don’t know I could fit any more alcohol into me.” I smiled up at him from the couch.

“No?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I think my head is going to hurt in the morning as it is.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Can I stay tonight?” I felt like an absolute mess on the couch.

Ben sat back in his chair and looked at me, shoes and socks removed. “Do you want to?”

I nodded furiously, before laughter took hold. “Yeah.”

“Alright, come on. Let’s get to sleep then. It’s 1am.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. Do you want your own room?”

“Should I be wanting my own room?”

“Ohhhhh. Okay.”

I was ushered upstairs, in the dark, Ben gripping my hand tightly. He got to the top of the stairs and decided he hadn’t locked up, so ran back downstairs to do that. I stood in the dark, waiting, the sound of my heartbeat flooding my ears and chest cavity.

“I can’t see a thing,” Ben grunted as he fell up some stairs.

“Well, that makes two of us, then.”

I could hear his feet coming up the stairs as I tried to adjust my eyes to the dark. I managed only enough to see his silhouette coming towards me. I reached out and grabbed him, a hand fumbling around his hip.

I pulled him into me, and into a kiss. Both of us slightly drunk, it started off a bit messy and full of laughter, but settled into a slow burn. That burn became desperate wanting, lips forcing lips apart, tongues eagerly searching for and finding acceptance. I relaxed into his embrace, enjoying it completely, no eyes watching on, no one able to see us or judge us in this quiet, private moment.

We fumbled around in the dark, pawing at each other in the dark. I took the first initiative and pulled Ben’s t-shirt up over his head. Not quite tall enough, the t-shirt was out of my reach at the top of his hands. He used that as an excuse to entrap me in his arms, flicking the t-shirt off onto the ground.

“Bedroom,” I gasped. “Where’s your room?”

My eyes peeled apart slowly the next morning, a rough mix of booze and not enough sleep keeping them heavy and disinterested in doing much. I rolled onto my back, suddenly aware that I was naked and not in my own bedroom. I chanced a look next to me, to my left, and was greeted with the near enough to perfect outline of shoulders, back and hips, blonde hair falling limply onto the pillow supporting his head, the slow rise and fall of his body indicating he was still fast asleep.

I panicked; a thousand thoughts suddenly flooding my brain on what should be a peaceful Sunday morning. I snuck out of bed, gathering up the clothes I could find and getting dressed before making my way downstairs. A quick look around didn’t turn up my phone. I couldn’t remember where I’d last seen it and, on top of the panic, I was starting to feel a bit stressed by the whole situation. My coin purse and keys were on the kitchen bench; I shoved them into my pockets and tried to tie my hair up again.

“You looking for this?”

I jumped, not expecting and not hearing Ben come down the stairs. “Yes, thank you.”

“Why are you running away?”

“I’m not running away.” I defended.

“Yes you are. You look like a deer in the headlights. Why are you running? Do you regret last night?”

“Not entirely.”

“Not entirely. Thanks.”

I shook my head. “There was nothing wrong with it, with you. I just don’t think we should while we’re working on the film.”

“Why not? Your involvement is almost done. There’s not much else you need to do until it comes time to promote it.”

This was awkward. Checkmate ensued for a few moments, both of us standing there in silence. I was fully dressed, Ben in a pair of pyjama pants. Those internet memes about sleeping with your favourite celebrity, only to find him the next morning in pyjama pants, cooking pancakes and kissing you on the nose? That was him, and I was about to throw it away.

“I just can’t, Ben, I’m sorry.”

“You can’t just walk away. I want this.”

“I can and I am. I’ll see you at our meeting on Wednesday night.” I kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for last night.”

“Sarah, come on. We’ll have breakfast and talk about it. You can’t just walk away.”

I shook my head. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

Adele poured a pot of tea, checked my temperature and made a bad joke about everything, of course, but ultimately made me feel better about it by the end of the day. She had seen how upset I was at having press photographers hanging around the house for just that one day. There had been sneaky photos of me taken in the days following the first published pictures and the backlash from the fan base was intense.

“I just can’t deal with, and don’t want to deal with that level of public scrutiny,” I reasoned. “I know not everyone’s going to love _Interminable_ but that’s not going to be my fault entirely if that happens, it’s a team effort. You’ve seen the stuff online and it’s not pretty.”

“No, it really isn’t.” She sat opposite me on our small balcony, a plate of ham and cheese croissants between us as we settled into quiet contemplation.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do Wednesday,” I offered. “I feel like such a clown.”

“What if he could guarantee you anonymity?”

“See, that’s the thing. He can’t.”

And he couldn’t.


	24. Chapter 24

**_Benedict_ **

The weather was bloody glorious. I wished I got more of these types of days off, and to have Sarah joining me was going to be excellent as well. I felt a lot better about my place after our chat and was looking forward to things progressing. I was at an age now, and had enough experience in the last two years since the whole ‘fame’ thing happened, that I was looking for something meaningful, and mature.

Knowing she wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of celebrity, particularly after her brush with paparazzi during the week, I got my friend Anna Marney to host the dinner party instead, and we made it a lunch on account of the decent weather. The meant Sarah would be able to turn up largely unnoticed; we could arrive separately and enjoy the afternoon together in relative privacy.

Sarah arrived and slipped into the group with ease, which I loved; I’d been friends with a lot of this group for a lot of years, all of us finding our success at different times. It was a wonderful support and even better to see her gel with the group so well. It helped even further that they appeared to like her, as well, that helped calm my nerves a bit more.

“She’s cute as a button.” Anna sidled up next to me on a bench seat and leant in. “I can see why you like her.”

“Thank you.” I couldn’t think of any other way to answer that.

“She smart?”

“Yeah, she’s quite switched on actually. It’s nice.”

“Is she the girl in the rags the other week?”

“That’s her.”

“Wow. How’d she take that?”

“Not well.”

“She’ll be alright. She’ll come around. You get used to it. You did. I did. We all had to.”

“I hope so, she’s a bit hesitant.” I looked around to find her deep in conversation with Fry about something. They’d been talking set design when I’d left them.

“Don’t push it though, otherwise she’ll run the other way.”

“I know. I know.” I nodded,

We rounded out the night with dinner at my favourite pub, not far from Anna’s house. A private booth away from prying eyes; I wasn’t overly concerned about eating out in public, but if Sarah wanted her privacy intact, and wanted to keep everything quiet then I was prepared to go to lengths needed to ensure that she got just that.

It worked well; eventually we were kicked out of the pub and sent on our way for the night. A quick cab ride back to my place and we were soon fumbling about in the dark and tearing at each others’ clothes. In short, we had sex, and it surprised the hell out of me. Not because of how good it was but because it actually happened. I’d gotten a lot of mixed messages before hand and then it happened.

Confusion was tenfold the next morning when I caught Sarah in a panic trying to gather her things and leave. I’d woken up earlier in the morning to find her tucked up snugly into my back, which felt amazing. But when I woke up again, she couldn’t get away quick enough. I couldn’t help but think I’d done something wrong; it felt like I had and, again, it was just mixed signals all over again.

I let her go. I couldn’t very well force her to stay, but I sent her a message that night; I felt like I deserved some sort of explanation after she forced me to watch her walk away.

_Please can you tell me what I’ve done wrong?_

I hoped she didn’t have a house full of girlfriends telling her how to reply.

_Nothing at all. Last night was fantastic._

Well, that cleared up nothing.

_But still you left in a hurry._

She was quicker this time.

_I did. I think we made a mistake. I don’t think we should do that again._

Yeah. I was confused.

_I’m confused._

Her response took a while.

_I’m so sorry. I feel completely horrible. I just don’t think now is the right time._

If now wasn’t the right time...

_When is the right time, then? Can we revisit this topic? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. I have feelings for you. I assume you feel something similar, otherwise we wouldn’t have slept together._

I got no response after that. I was cranky, and it showed the next few days. I hated being cranky; it didn’t serve productivity well.


	25. Chapter 25

**_Sarah_ **

I’d managed to work both of us into a state of confusion. I didn’t think a relationship at this point in time was going to benefit either of us; particularly while trying to work on a film together. Ben wasn’t of the same opinion, and I know he was upset. We had a text exchange on the Sunday night. He was upset, I ended up in tears and it just wasn’t a great headspace for me to be in. I never said I didn’t find him attractive, I found him insanely attractive, as did most of the internet, but I couldn’t justify putting more stress on Interminable than was already there.

I buried myself in my work, long days and longer nights. We had one final set location meeting on the Wednesday night at Ben’s house. I was late, arriving by cab instead of catching public transport. Ben greeted me, albeit it nervously, at the front door and we moved inside to the dining room to continue the meeting.

His eyes burned into me all night. It was hard to concentrate, meaning I let a lot of things slide that I would have otherwise found fault in or disagreed with. I stood up to leave almost the second the meeting was done.

“I think that’s probably the last we’ll see of you until we start shooting.” Adam was having trouble hiding the fact he was excited by that, but I didn’t mind. “You take care. I’ll be in touch just as soon as we have a start date. Ben said he wanted you on set for some of the shoots.”

“That’d be great, thank you.” I shook his head. “Thanks for everything, Adam.”

“No, thank you.”

I shook hands with Jack as well, before trying to shake Ben’s hand. He wasn’t having a bar of it, and saw me to the front door.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he mumbled, holding the front door shut.

I shook my head. “I thought we already had.”

“Not really. I want to sit down here, or at your place if you’re more comfy, and work out what you need from me to make this work.”

“That’s not fair on you.”

“Of course it’s fair on me. I am in a very different profession, one that often involves a lack of privacy. I know that’s an issue for you, but I think we could make this work on your terms.”

“It’s not all about me, though. That’s not fair on you.” I pulled at the door handle. “Please Ben. It was fantastic, but it can’t happen again.”

I gave him a kiss on the cheek and left quietly, feeling like a complete moron. It would be a few months before I saw Ben again.


	26. Chapter 26

**_Benedict_ **

Often, relationship issues don’t affect me in the workplace. It used to be that I could brush aside whatever was happening and just plough on through work. I couldn’t do that with Sarah, though, and it was annoying me. I was off my game completely, much to the chagrin of my co-stars as we settled into a rehearsal schedule for The Twelfth Night.

There were plenty of questions about Sarah, the girl whose photo was featured in the paper. Nothing to report, I’d tell them. She’s working on Interminable and that’s all there is to it. No gossip, no scandal, no girlfriend, nothing.

Anna Marney was also in the play, so it was great to catch up with her again. We’d worked together in our early careers, nearly ten years ago, and it was such a contrast for us to now work with each other again. There were so many changes; our ages for a start, our maturity, and our skills. She’d grown massively as an actress and it was a pleasure to watch.

Competition was an interesting thing; it often brought people out of the woodwork and pushed others into uncomfortable situations. For me, the competition of Sarah, certainly pushed me into a corner. By the Wednesday, Anna had suggested she was also short of a boyfriend at that point in time and perhaps we should just hook up.

It surprised me in that I hadn’t ever really thought of Anna like that. She was lovely, she was great at her job, but there was never that level of interest for me that Sarah held. Politely, I turned her down; my plan being to sort out my issues with Sarah that night after our meeting.

I didn’t get that chance; the minute proceedings were closed, she up and moved to the front door without much more than ‘the timing is wrong’ as her explanation.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?” Jack piped up from the hallway, having just watched our interaction.

I nodded. “Yep.”

“And now she doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

“It wasn’t bad sex. She just doesn’t want the public attention.”

“Well, that’s a good thing. You don’t need an attention whore on your arm.”

“No, I don’t need one and I don’t want one.”

“Is it good for the project to do that, though?” Adam piped up.

“That’s exactly what Sarah’s reasoning is.”

“Well, for once, I’m going to tell you that you should listen to her.” Adam smiled. “Good night gents. Ben, sort your schedule out this week for us please. The sooner we can get filming on this the better.”

“Will do.” I nodded.

I closed and locked the door behind them. Empty drink glasses in the dishwasher, beer bottles in the bin. Lights switched off and I trundled upstairs on my own again.

It was so quiet in the house on my own.


	27. Chapter 27

**_Sarah_ **

My usual work routine settled back down to normal, the attention died down and spent the next few months getting on with life as it had been before this entire screenplay, Benedict Cumberbatch business started. We spoke on the phone a few times, and I didn’t divulge anything other than what I’d already told him; it wasn’t the right time. He got cranky, then he got upset, and I’m sure I heard his voice wobble at one stage but I held my ground. I didn’t want the attention, I didn’t want the hate, the first lot had scared me off, and I didn’t want the disruption while we were working on the film.

Christmas was lovely, and spent out at Cardiff with mum, dad, my brother and sister, both of whom are younger than me. I hadn’t been home since the Ben situation blew up and became public fodder, so they were all up for knowing what was and wasn’t going on. My sister was quite disappointed when I said it wasn’t likely that he would be showing his face at Christmas dinner. I guess he did, though, a phone call in the middle of everything to wish me a merry Christmas, which was lovely.

It still hurt, though. I missed his company, but I felt like we’d crossed a ‘line’, so to speak and that made it hard to spend time with him physically. A text came through later that afternoon that confused the situation even more.

_I miss you._

How was I supposed to answer that? Tell him the truth, complicate it further? I didn’t want to lie to him, though.

_I miss you too._

And I’d done it. He replied immediately.

_Then why the silence? I’d love to see you today. Say the word and I’ll be on a flight over._

Because in Ben’s world you can just make flights happen.

_No, I think it best you didn’t._

He wasn’t having a bar of it.

_Why?_

Why indeed?

_Because I said so. I can’t do this while we’re working on the film, and I don’t expect you to wait around for me, either._

Eventually we settled into a normal communication pattern. We’d call each other, chat about the progress of the film, or where Ben was at with his own projects. He’d invited me to watch him at the theatre one night, but I refused and later snuck in on my back to check it out. He was good. He was utterly fantastic, in fact. The minute his twelve week at the theatre was over, he was on the phone to organise the filming schedule for Interminable.

“Hello Ben.” I smiled down the phone. It was now no secret that I knew Ben and, so, didn’t hide it if he called me at my office.

“Sarah, how are you on this fine day?”

“I’m not so bad. How are you? How was Christmas?”

“Good, good. I asked Santa for something, but the dodgy bastard held out on me this year.”

I laughed. “Diddums.”

“So, the reason I am harassing you so early in the morning is that we have a start date.”

“We do?”

“We do, and I’m very excited. March 1.”

“Saturday?”

“First day of the month; will you be there? Can I send a car to pick you up?”

“I will be there, absolutely.”

“Excited?”

“You’ll never know how much.”

“Oh I will know very much.” He disagreed. “How are you otherwise?”

“I’m doing pretty good, very busy here, but that’s keeping me out of trouble. How about you?”

“Yeah, I’m doing okay. Do you want me to send a car for you?”

“Where is filming?” I asked. He seemed keen to make sure I was on set.

“I’ll email you the filming schedule if you like and you can decide when and where you’re going to be.”

“That sounds great, thanks,” I agreed. “I have to get going, though, I have a meeting in a few minutes.”

“No worries. Talk soon?”

“Of course.” I answered. “See you soon.”

“Bye.”

March 1 rolled around quickly. Ben had sent through the filming schedule so I could pick and choose what days I wanted to be around. Realistically, though, I wanted to be present for the whole damn thing. I’d been bitten by the bug. This was actually going to happen; I was going to see my idea come to life.

I wrangled off as much time as possible, with the promise that I would take manuscripts to set with me, as well as a laptop. Basically, it was a ‘sure you can go, but....’ moment that basically meant I was still working. If I kept up my end of the deal, I’d still get paid. Friday afternoon meetings each week to see where I was sitting with work, and reassessed at the end of every week to ensure we were still on target.

I dropped Ben a quick email, detailing the plan.

                FROM: Watford, Sarah

                TO: Cumberbatch, Ben

                SUBJECT: Schedules

So, it turns out I have a pretty good boss and a lot of people around here are excited about this film. They’re letting me basically show up on set whenever I like, so long as I maintain my work output.

Does the offer of a car still stand for Saturday morning?

 

S. x

 

I got a reply later that night.

                FROM: Cumberbatch, Ben

                TO: Watford, Sarah

                SUBJECT: Re: Schedule

Turns out the offer does still stand. Going by your email, I’m tipping you’ll need the car every day for the next three months?

 

Ben. X

I was so excited I could hardly, sleep, so tapped out a reply straight away.

                FROM: Watford, Sarah

                TO: Cumberbatch, Ben

                SUBJECT: Re:Re: Schedule

                Absolutely yes; I’m so excited I can’t sleep right now. This is going to be amazing.

                S.x


	28. Chapter 28

**_Benedict_ **

My brother gave me so much hell on Christmas Day. What had seemed so full of promise with Sarah had ultimately gone the way of everything else.

“Did you scare her away?” Robbie poked.

“Hardly, she ran away,” I grumbled.

“What reason did she give?”

“That she didn’t want to complicate things while we were filming.”

“She did get a lot of shit online when that photo of her got out, though, and I know she’s on Facebook, because I looked. It wouldn’t have been nice for her to open her newsfeed and see that.” Richard offered.

“Why would that be on her newsfeed?”

“Only because you’re listed as one of her housemate’s favourite actors, so of course it would come up. Her profile is set to private, though, so I can’t see a thing except her picture.”

Richard spent the next fifteen minutes fussing over Sarah’s Facebook page. I felt a little bit stalker like looking at her page, until Robbie decided he was going to add her as a friend.

“You can’t do that!” I protested. “She’ll know we’re sitting around talking about her.”

“She’ll be fine. I got along really well with her. It’s okay. Plus, I got her free clothes.”

“I got her free clothes.” Richard rolled his eyes.

I laughed at them both. They were nuts, and Robbie had a massive soft spot for Sarah. I don’t blame him. I missed her, and couldn’t work out her justifications for not wanting to get involved. I was well aware I was pining for her, even in the face of other offers I’d had made since we’d slept together. Things were really quite odd between Anna and I now, but I hoped that would pass.

“Darling, maybe you should just call her and see how she’s doing. It is Christmas, I’m getting the stark impression you slept with her, so just be a nice caring person and call her to wish her a Merry Christmas.” Mum dropped the home phone into my lap.

I did just that, and it was lovely to talk to her again, even if she did sound a bit guarded. We slipped into our old routine of talking about what books she’d read or was currently reading, how work was. She had a bit of a chuckle about Adele wanting to know why I hadn’t been for dinner since. I was getting the clear impression that whatever had happened between us went no further than the grey matter between her ears. She really was a very quiet, not very showy person, and that made me want something with her even more. Perhaps I just liked to pain myself.

I took the chance later on that day to text her and tell her that I missed her, shocked to discover that she felt the same way. Again, confusion set in and I couldn’t for the life of me work out why we were going around in circles. There was something there, I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling it or imagining it.

“Put it to the back of your mind.” Robbie passed some roast potatoes across the dinner table.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” I smirked.

“It’ll sort itself out, love, though I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up over a girl before.” Mum smiled as Dad refilled wine glasses around the table.

“Dad, it’s just... insane.” I shook my head. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Trust us, neither do we,” Robbie sniggered with a nudge to the shoulder.

There were no acrimonious feelings between us. She didn’t hate me, otherwise she wouldn’t answer phone calls, emails or texts, and I went out of my way to make sure I wasn’t bombarding her with either of them; only contacting here when it was absolutely necessary.

The time came to discuss the filming schedule with her and I was not in the least bit surprised to find out that she wanted to be there every day. Something had been organised with her employer that basically saw her working while on set with us. In a world where so many people flit from one project to the next, it was refreshing to see someone with such a strong work ethic; yet another reason to admire her.

Having said that, it was three months since we’d seen each other last, three months since we’d slept together, and I couldn’t continue to just cling to the idea that she might turn up on my doorstep one morning and realise she was a little bit nutty. So, sitting there the night before filming started, I decided I needed to let her go.

Filming got underway on Saturday, March 1st. Everyone super excited, overly nervous; I was absolutely petrified. I was producing and starring in the film, so each morning for me was costume, make up, then filming, in amongst trying to get everything to work. Adam wasn’t overly thrilled that Sarah was going to be there every day but, as I extended the invite, I assured him it wouldn’t be a problem. What had gone on between us wasn’t happening anymore and there would be no further issues.

We greeted each other with a hug, a lovely gesture, and I offered to share my trailer with her. Oddly enough, she agreed, and I didn’t think she would. It would be a good place for her to get some work done when things were quiet. Her backpack was loaded with manuscripts for new books and I tucked it away inside the door of the trailer, giving her the spare key.

There were cordoned off areas around the back of the set so that paparazzi couldn’t get lenses and photo equipment in. Or, at least, we hoped it would stop the majority of that. Sure, I was determined to let her go, but I also didn’t want to make matters worse by having her pop up in magazines again.

No playing around on her behalf, she grabbed a spare chair, sat down with a manuscript, put her ear plugs in and started reading until the action started. Completely focused on what she had to do. Coffees made their way around, as well as breakfast thanks to catering and we knuckled down into business. I introduced Sarah to the cast. I’m not sure why she hadn’t met them yet, but that might have had something to do with our three month ‘sabbatical’ from each other.

One of the first scenes we shot involved me running around in modern army uniform, cuts, bruises, fake blood, rips and tears in my clothing. It was quite comical when I stepped out of the makeup trailer and straight over to Sarah. Upon seeing me, she stood up and walked over to the trailer, not saying anything, but making a beeline in the opposite direction.

“Are you okay?” I followed her into the trailer.

She was crying, but nodding wildly. “Yep. Just overwhelmed.”

“In a good way?”

“Very good way. Look at you.” She gestured at me. “You’re my character, come to life. This is happening.”

I chuckled. “It really is. You better get used to it. You’ve got twelve weeks of this.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, this is just... was never going to happen.”

I stepped forward, arms outstretched in the offer of a hug and she took it. It wasn’t a long or a lingering hug, but enough to calm her and get her back out on set before Adam had a meltdown.

“Come on, let’s go make a movie.” I pinched her cheek. “This is gonna be fun.”

“It already is.” A quick wipe of the eyes and she was ready to go again.

She was tough as nails, she really was. If she didn’t want to see you, she didn’t. If she didn’t want you in her life, you weren’t. But if she wanted to hug you, you felt like the luckiest person alive because it meant something for her to open up like that. Quitting her was going to prove difficult, but not impossible.


	29. Chapter 29

**_Sarah_ **

Surely what was happening wasn’t real? I stood out in a paddock at eight o’clock on a cold, misty, snowing morning, overlooking hills, trees, and a vast expanse of grass. To my right was camera equipment, a dolly, a whole heap of cast and crew, massive lighting and rigging set up everywhere. This was actually going to happen.

If I thought the twelve weeks apart from Ben were going to help me get over him, I was sorely mistaken. The minute he walked out of the makeup trailer dressed and looking every part my male lead, I felt the lump rise in my throat. I had to walk away, and into the trailer we were supposed to share. I cried, openly, and freely, completely overwhelmed by what I felt for him, and what I was witnessing in front of me. My vision, brought to life, and he was an integral part of that.

“You’ll be okay.” He gave my back a gentle rub as we moved back to the main set area.

“Yeah, let me get through today first.” I smiled.

“Well, the caterers have plenty of chocolate, so help yourself.”

I took direction from Adam as to where he wanted me to sit while shooting. So long as I kept out of the way of the dolly and tracks, I was going to be okay. My first day on set, I didn’t look at anything related to work; I couldn’t. Everything was just so exciting, fresh, new and intriguing.

Dinner was had on set at about seven o’clock that night, Ben and I sitting together at one of the tables along with a few other cast members and Adam. He was keen to find out what I thought about the first day, and seemed pleasantly surprised when I told him I loved what was happening so far.

I was up until 1am the next morning trying to get through some of a manuscript that I needed to get done by the end of the weekend. I hadn’t had a chance to look at the shooting schedule for the next day, so I just threw my work in my bag and ran downstairs to the awaiting car the next morning.

Driven to a building on the opposite side of London, it soon became clear to me what we were going to be shooting that day; a sex scene. I was going to be watching Ben simulate sex with another woman. Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so comfortable with the idea of me being there.

Ben was already walking around with in a bathrobe, nothing else on but a small modesty piece to protect, well, his modesty. I greeted him somewhat awkwardly, I wasn’t expecting to see him disrobed already, and my discomfort rose somewhat when the female lead actress turned up in the room only wearing a robe as well.

The set was closed to most people; in fact I was surprised I was allowed to be in there, but I was. It was some weird type of torture to watch him go through the motions of having sex with another woman. The noises, the movement, watching them laugh like a couple in love, just like it was all in a days’ work.

“Reckon he can put in a better performance?” Adam leant over on his way to grab a coffee.

“I’m sure he could,” I snapped back, eyes still set firmly on the set in front of me.

There was some sort of mumbling going on between the two of them, some more laughing, and a quick glance over at me on her behalf. I took the opportunity of a break to get up and move out to the trailer. I didn’t want to watch anymore; today’s game was no fun.

I told myself continually that it was just a job. That’s all it was, nothing more, until they both turned up at the trailer in their bath robes, laughing and playing with each other. The door swung open and Ben presented in the doorway.

“Oh! Hey Sarah.”

“Hey Ben.” I still had my head buried in a manuscript, red pen in hand.

“I thought you’d gone home.”

“Nope.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yep.”

“Have you met Aleesha?”

“Yep.”

“Are you -.”

“I’m a bit busy, I’m sorry.” I looked up at him and, in that moment, I swore he knew exactly what my problem was, but chose to ignore it.

“It’s okay, we can go to my trailer,” Aleesha offered.

This was getting far too awkward for me, so I offered to leave instead. I packed up my books and left, heading home to get more work done.

I had to constantly remind myself that it was only a film shoot, which would be only be twelve weeks, and that life would return to normal eventually. Another late night meant I was exhausted the next day; I could feel my eyes burning constantly, and needed a few cups of coffee to get me going. Ben was a bit distant, which told me everything I needed to know about Aleesha; one or both of them were fast movers.

When I arrived on the Monday morning, I was greeted with Ben and Aleesha in our trailer sharing breakfast. I made the decision at that point that perhaps I didn’t need to be sharing a trailer with Ben. Everything was becoming ten types of convoluted, and thought it best we didn’t share the same cramped space all day. I walked out to set and found Jamie, one of the guys who had worked on the script, but had never been at a meeting.

“Jamie?” I tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey Sarah.” His smile was warm and welcoming, a nice change from what I’d just been shown by Aleesha.

“Hey. So, do you have a trailer at all that I could spend a bit of time in? Ben has Aleesha in ours at the moment and -.”

He cut me off. “Yeah, that developed quickly, didn’t it? Surprised us all, I can tell you. We thought you two were on.”

“No.” I shook my head. “No, we’re not.”

I was ushered into a trailer that Jamie shared with a few other people. It was different to Ben’s; no bed or shower, it was more like a demountable with a few desks inside.

“There’s only a desk.” He offered, “But it’s yours if you want it.”

“Thank you, Jamie. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

I settled in at the desk, greeting people that came and went. For the most of the day, I was left to my own which was nice. I braved the light of day for lunch, before spending some time on set in the afternoon watching some more scenes being filmed. I decided, though, that I really didn’t want to be on set every day watching Ben cavorting with another woman.

He sure did move quickly when he moved. I should know.


	30. Chapter 30

**_Benedict_ **

I hooked up with Aleesha pretty quickly once we started filming. It was strange; the first day we shared on set together we had to film a sex scene. Anyone who has had to film one will tell you that they just aren’t fun. In fact, I’d often wondered if it would just be easier to have sex than to pretend you’re having it. I mean, it happens, sometimes you get a bit excited; do you apologise? Or are they taking it as a compliment?

“I am so sorry,” I sniggered as we lay there between takes.

“What’s to be sorry about?” She smiled. “I think that’s a compliment, isn’t it?”

“I guess if you put it that way.”

There wasn’t a lot of substance there, if I’m honest about the situation, but she was a great distraction when trying to get over Sarah, who all but disappeared from set after that first week. I was disturbed that she felt uncomfortable enough to go to Jamie for a different trailer to work in, but that was her choice. She had made it clear that she didn’t want a relationship with me, as much as I told her I could make things work for her, so if she wanted to be angry or jealous then she only had herself to blame.

Sarah’s visits to set became less and less, but she made sure to show up for the few key scenes she’d earmarked throughout pre-production, Jamie sticking close to her side the time she was there. I watched their interaction closely, trying to pick up on signs of anything going on, but I couldn’t work them out. They were quiet, they were friendly, and disappeared for stretches of time to his trailer. Whispers were they were working on a writing project together.

Either way, Aleesha and I soon became public knowledge. She didn’t seem fazed by the publicity, the photographers or the gossip columns.

“All publicity is good publicity.” She said one morning over breakfast. I wasn’t so sold on that idea, but if she was comfortable, I let it slide.


	31. Chapter 31

**_Sarah_ **

I started seeing Jamie a few weeks into the filming schedule. It was a gradual thing, and it was nice; really lovely. It started off with my using the trailer to do some work while taking breaks from watching filming. Communication between Ben and I all but ceased unless it was to do with work, but Jamie and I became constant companions.

He would often come to visit me at home if I wasn’t on set. We sat and talked until the early hours about story ideas we had, going so far as to start plotting one out one night. It was lovely to have his company, he was thoroughly lovely, a gentleman if I may, and we struck up a bond quickly. He was only a little taller than I, curly brown hair that fell in loose curls and lovely blue eyes.

Not a fan of Ben, though. He started making his feelings known towards the end of filming; there was certainly not a lot of love lost there.

“He’s all over the shop with her, don’t you think?” We sat looking out the window of the trailer out towards Ben’s. Aleesha was fawning all over him again.

“You mean going to the opening of an envelope?” I scoffed. “Then, yes.”

“What do you think of her?” Jamie looked at me.

“I think she’s a hanger on. This is her first film, Ben is a big star. Give him a bit of sex, so she can get dragged around to events and get her name out there.”

“That’s what everyone thinks.” He nodded in agreement. “Sad thing is it’s blatantly obvious. She sets up half the paparazzi shots at his house.”

“She what?” I looked at him. “You mean she calls them?”

“Yes. I overheard her talking in the makeup trailer one morning.”

I rolled my eyes. Trust Ben to get himself involved with someone like this. I’m sure he’s sitting there thinking it’s true love; he goes out of his way to look after her, and then here she is calling the paparazzi photographers on him, which he hates.

I pounced on him one afternoon close to end of shooting. Well, not so much pounced on him. I was sitting out in a field having lunch, a ham and salad roll, when Ben came and sat down next to me.

“This seat free?” He looked down at me.

“Yeah, go for it.” I smiled.

“How are you?” He sidled in close and kissed me on the cheek.

I think I pulled back a little, but didn’t want to be overly obvious. “I’m really well, how are you?”

“Exhausted.”

“You look it.” I offered flatly.

“How so?”

“You just look exhausted. I’m sure Aleesha has you running around until all hours of the night.”

“Ah, yeah, she does.” He was quiet for a moment. “What do you think of her?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Yes I do, it’s why I asked.”

We sat mirroring each other, knees hitched up into our chests, arms wrapped around up. I leant my head on my knees and looked at him.

“I worry about you.” I broke the silence.

“You do? Why?”

I shook my head.

“Sarah, I’m asking you because I trust you to give me a straight answer.”

“You’ve finally worked out you’re surrounded by enablers?”

“Hey?”

“People that won’t tell you no.”

“Well tell me what you really think,” he chuckled.

“Are you sure you want me to?”

A production assistant came over, Ben chatting briefly and telling them he’ll be back shortly.

“I’m very sure.”

“You are being used as a rung on a ladder. I know you don’t like your photo in the paper, we’ve had this discussion before. Yet, here you are going to every opening and social event she can drag you along to. This is her first major role, am I correct?”

“You are correct.”

“I know I am.”

“You think Jamie’s better than that, though?”

“I’m sorry?” I gave him a look of indignation.

“If you think he’s any better, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He knows this film is going to be a massive success. We all do. His name isn’t on writing credits because he didn’t do a big enough percentage of the work. He’s sucking up your arse, probably giving your mediocre sex, so that ... let me guess, you can write your next script together. Now, you and I both know Adam wants to buy whatever you churn out next, so he’s getting in early and securing his position. How’s that?”

I shook my head. “You don’t know that.”

“If I told you I knew he spent a lot of time running me into the ground when he spoke to you, would you believe me then?”

“Aleesha sets up the paps to come to your house.” I spat out in defence.

“Doe she?”

“That’s what I’m told.”

“You don’t look happy.”

“Well, that makes two of us, then. You’re exhausted, you’re grumpy, and you’re snappy. You’re certainly not the Ben I ran into in the park.” I stood up and walked away, leaving him decidedly less hungry than he was when he sat down.

Eventually he tossed his roll out and went back to work.


	32. Chapter 32

**_Benedict_ **

People just can’t be happy for you, can they? I was having a good time with Aleesha, going out, having fun, and attending events. She looked gorgeous, constantly, and handled everything well, not one to shy away from the attention, and understood that it was all part and parcel of the life that we lead as actors. It was nice to not hide away.

The film shoot was going well, ahead of schedule which was great. That meant we could spend a week or two at the end doing reshoots of certain things and getting everything up to scratch. Sarah’s attendance on set dropped off dramatically after I filmed my sex scene with Aleesha. She was the one that insisted I didn’t sit around and wait for her to be ready, so I went with the next option.

Mum wasn’t a fan though, called her one of those ‘surgically enhanced, Hollywood types’ that are, apparently, against my type. According to Angela, there was a heap of vitriol among the fan base, as well. I don’t know, my life wasn’t their business, so surely they could just leave me alone and be done with it.

Sarah was the next person to try and burst my bubble. Shooting had been going almost three months so, essentially, I’d been with Aleesha almost three months. She wasn’t on set for one particular week, out in the Bahamas doing a modelling shoot, and I took the opportunity to try and talk to Sarah, who’d managed to get herself bamboozled into a relationship with Jamie, one of the screenwriters.

Now, if anyone was looking to climb a ladder, it was him. Not enough writing time to get credit on _Interminable_ , he was keen to get his finger in the pie for Sarah’s next script. Adam had all but offered to buy it already, and he was just trying to latch onto that to try and get some notability in the film community; he’d been involved in flops before.

I was comfortable enough with Sarah that I thought nothing of sliding up beside her to have a chat. She was sat on her own, overlooking an empty field we were shooting in. I wanted to try and broach the subject with her gently, but as is her no holds barred attitude she jumped straight onto me about Aleesha, basically repeating everything I’d already heard from everyone else. I didn’t look happy, I looked exhausted, she was dragging me around and dragging me down to further her own career.

At least it gave me an easy enough in to tell her exactly what I thought was going on with Jamie; an almost carbon copy of what she’d just spat at me about my situation. She didn’t take it so well, not that I expected her to, but I couldn’t help but think that if that’s what Sarah thought, perhaps she was right? Maybe I had backed myself into a corner.

I couldn’t be angry at her. I got home that night to find that mail for Aleesha was being redirected to my house. Why, I’ll never know, and I couldn’t get a hold of her on the phone to ask her what was going on. Last time I checked we hadn’t discussed the remotest idea of her moving in, let alone mail redirection.

I called Sarah that night.

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked hopefully.

“Not a lot tonight, just trying to get a few words out.” She was quiet.

“Can I please come around?”

“I don’t know whether that’s such a good idea,” she mumbled. “I would say yes but -.”

“Is Jamie there?”

“Yep.”

“Going home any time soon?” Maybe I could go around later.

“Maybe tomorrow when he goes to work.”

I felt like I’d been slapped in the face, and I shouldn’t have. I had a girlfriend, and it wasn’t Sarah. Yet, I hated the idea of Jamie waking up next to her.

“Oh.” I answered, coming to a realisation. “Well, okay then.”

“I haven’t decided whether or not I’ll be on set tomorrow, but if I am, we’ll have a coffee.”

“Sounds good. Hopefully I see you tomorrow.” And I was hopeful.

Sarah wasn’t there, but Jamie was, busy making his displeasure known to all and sundry. I cornered him in his trailer later on that afternoon.

“What’s your problem?” I cut to the chase.

“You’ve got a girlfriend, get the hell away from mine.”

“You think she’s stupid? She knows you’re only hanging around to get your name in the writing credits.”

“I am not; otherwise they’d be in this film. Which, by rights, they should be.”

“They should not. You spent five minutes on the script.”

“Oh, okay. So you think you know everything do you? Benedict Cumberbatch, biggest star in the world at the moment thinks he knows everything going on under his nose. Let me tell you something, you’re the laughing stock at the moment. People are laughing at you while you get steamrolled.”

“What?” I was aghast. Hardly laughing stock.

“Everyone is laughing at you.”

“Why?”

“Because that whore you’re dating is steamrolling you. Just like every other thing you’ve had on your arm.”

“Well, you’re hardly in a position to talk. I mean, you are sloppy seconds for Sarah.”

The pain hit, and it hit hard. The warm trickle of blood as it dripped down and out of my nose; he’d punched me in the face. Instead of fighting back, I steadied myself and laughed.

“Truth hurts.” I smiled. “Don’t look so shocked. Do you mean to tell me she never told you about us?”

Jamie just stood there, dumbfounded. I think I’d broken a fuse inside him somewhere. Sarah actually hadn’t told him that we’d been together at one stage. I was still laughing when I walked out of his trailer and across to sick bay.


	33. Chapter 33

**_Sarah_ **

So Jamie punched Ben. Funnily enough, I wasn’t happy with that idea. Two men in a pissing contest, that’s all it was. I’d never told Jamie about Ben. In fact, not even my family were aware that we’d slept together. I just didn’t feel that it was news that needed to be broadcast. It was personal, nobody’s business but ours, and that’s how I kept it.

Jamie threw me for a loop when I saw him next, demanding to know the ins and outs of the situation. The who, the what, the when, the where, and the why. I explained it very simply as something that had happened once and wasn’t going to happen again. If he was any greener, he could have had a role in _The Hulk_.

“Why hadn’t you told me before this?”

“Because it’s not your business.” I took a sip of my coffee. “It’s not anyone’s business who or what I’ve gotten up to in my spare time. It was a one off, not to happen again.”

“I still deserve to know if I have to work for him.”

“Jamie, calm down. You don’t need to know.”

“Yes I do.”

“Why? So you can torture yourself continually about it? Live that tortured life of a writer and replay in your head what it might’ve looked like in your head? No.”

He spent the rest of the shoot following me around, making sure I wasn’t left alone with Ben for elongated periods of time. To say that grated on my nerves would be the understatement of the year. I hated it, and it showed a massive level of distrust on his behalf.

At the wrap party, he followed me around again, clutching me tightly to his side. He’d also continued his tirades against Ben every chance he got, and it was exhausting. Ben’s personality was not the reason a relationship with him didn’t work out. It was me, pure and simple. I didn’t want the attention, the flashbulbs, and the hate from the fans. That was the sole reason. The idea I’d spun to Ben about not wanting to interfere with the film shoot was partly true, but it was mostly a self protection mechanism, and one I was happy to stick with.

A quiet moment was stolen away when most everyone else was busy chatting away. I was stood by the drinks table when Ben approached me, looking quite upset if I could guess.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Not sure.” He smiled gently. “Not sure.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Want to get out of here?”

I rolled my eyes. “Think that will work?”

“It could.”

“Let me work something out.” I offered.

I found myself a few hours later sitting in the front room at Ben’s house. Knowing I would get a negative reaction from Jamie, I told him I was going home early because I didn’t feel well. Yes, I lied to him, and I shouldn’t have to lie about time spent with friends, but I thought Ben to be a special case.

“What’s wrong?” I watched as Ben sat in a chair opposite.

“So Aleesha wants to take on an independant film project.”

“Yep.” I nodded. “What’s the problem there?”

“Sex scenes.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“It’s going to be uncomfortable,” he reasoned.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to watch _you_ film them?” I put my drink down and looked at him.

“Yes, but mine is what’s called a simulated sex scene. She wants to do non simulated.”

“So you mean to say she’d basically be having sex legitimately on film.”

“Yes. As in you may as well just go and make a porno.” He nodded.

“Well, I guess the question is how does she think about your feelings towards it?”

“She thinks I’m being ridiculous.”

“Does she not understand she will actually be having sex with someone else?”

“Oh she understands.” He scoffed.

“Well, I know what I would do. But I’m not offering advice in any direction.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I tell you to dump her arse and you do, she comes after me. If I tell you to dump her arse, and you do, Jamie thinks I’m doing it to free you up for me. I’m not involving myself.”

“Is he still going on about that?”

I chuckled. “He hasn’t stopped.”

“He’s very insecure.”

I sat quietly for a moment. “Well, I like him.”

“But you don’t love him?”

“Going home now, Ben.” I stood up.

“What?”

“I’m not having this discussion with you.”

“What? We can’t have an honest discussion anymore?”

“You honestly tell me you love _her,_ then.”

“I can’t,” he offered quietly. “I can’t and I won’t pretend.”

“Do you like how your life is now? Be honest. Do you enjoy the flashbulbs? The man I lunched with in Sheffield didn’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Really? Because you look to be enjoying it.”

“I’m not. If I’m honest, I’m not.”

I grabbed my jacket and walked out the front door, to find flashbulbs in my face. I was immediately petrified, and angry, and knew exactly where they’d come from. I looked back at Ben, standing at his front door.

“And who organised these?”

He said nothing. He knew the answer as well as I did.

My photo was all over the paper the next day, along with allegations about a cheating scandal and information that Aleesha was flying back from her shoot early to confront the problem. Great. My small little world, that had somehow managed to fly under the radar, just got a whole lot bigger again.

This time, the attention was unrelenting. Newspapers, online and in print ran stories. I was apparently the one Ben couldn’t get over, and the one he turned to when his girlfriend was out of town. Needless to say, Jamie was less than impressed and we came to blows over it, to the point that I told him I needed him to not be in my life. I know that made me look guilty, but I wasn’t concerned about that anymore.

I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, and that was the line I was towing. Neither of us had done anything wrong. Aleesha turned up on my doorstep, a flurry of photographers with her and wanted to have a stand up argument on my doorstep, in front of everyone, about how I was trying it on with her boyfriend.

I wasn’t buying any of it, and Ben could lie to himself as much as he wanted but I knew this wouldn’t make him happy.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” She shouted through the screen door.

“Because I have nothing to talk to you about. Pack your shit up and go home to your boyfriend.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“When?”

“When I was away.”

“No.” I laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

This woman was all kinds of loopy. She wanted to go and make a film that required her to physically have sex with a man that wasn’t her partner, and she’s coming at me worried about me sleeping with her boyfriend? I laughed and shut the door, then I sent Ben a text.

_Get her off my doorstep before the police are involved. I never wanted any of this._

A response didn’t take long. My phone rang. Adele took the phone from me, screaming profanity and abuse down the line; it was now starting to affect her working life as well. She’d turned up in the papers as ‘the roommate’, and had people offering her large sums of cash for tell all interviews. Her employer had told her to make the hullaballoo go away but that was sadly out of our control as far as we knew.

Our agents must’ve had dinner that night, because the next day they’d released a very strongly worded ‘no comment’ piece to the media outlets, and police were issuing keep away notices for both of our addresses. It still took another week or so to die down, by which time Ben had broken up with Aleesha, which he told me via text.

_No more flashbulbs. No more drama._

I looked at the message for an hour, trying to work out whether or not to reply to it.

_Good. I was sure that Ben I knew didn’t enjoy that._

He must’ve been hanging on my every word, because he came back quickly.

_The Ben you still know doesn’t like it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry this has happened to you._

I left it at that and tried to get on with work. Post production would be happening for the next few months, and after that it was the film festival circuit and, hopefully, awards ceremonies. We skipped through March, my birthday month, then April through to August, September and October, Ben’s birthday month. It was hard to believe this whole process was ongoing for over twelve months now.

I still followed his career closely, watching his newest roles, but stayed as distant as I could from him.


	34. Chapter 34

**_Benedict_ **

What a balls up I made of everything. Aleesha turned out to be a nightmare, an absolute nightmare. Everywhere she went, she dragged photographers with her. In the end, she took on the film role that I wasn’t comfortable with, and I ended our relationship the minute she told me. She knew I wasn’t comfortable; my idea of a relationship is a monogamous one and that film role didn’t fit my definition of that.

She’d also admitted to sending photographers around to my house while she was away, aiming to capture something, anything. She said she was happy enough with what she managed to capture and confirmed for her that I wasn’t all that keen on her to begin with. She might’ve been right about that, but having friends around does not mean I was sleeping with them.

Sarah had backed off completely, which I’m not afraid to admit upset me greatly. If I needed any example to learn about why she disliked the notion of flashbulbs in her life, well, Aleesha provided me that lesson in all its colourful glory. Next time, things would be different; everything kept under wraps, everything discreet, everything kept quiet. Had I listened to Sarah in the first place, things might’ve been different.

Now, it was a month after sending Sarah flowers for her birthday and I hadn’t heard anything from her. How stupid did I want to be?

“Have you heard from her at all?” Adam asked as we sat doing a quick mix edit of the film.

“Not at all. Sent her flowers for her birthday and got nothing.”

“Not even a thank you?”

“No.”

“Well, you fucked that right up, didn’t you?”

“I did.” I nodded. “I really did.”

“The only one that didn’t want you for your fame, or for your name, she told you she didn’t want that, and you stuffed it up.”

“I know. I know.”

“She broke up with Jamie, you know?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” I was surprised, and then I wasn’t.

Instead of worrying about either of us, she’d rejected us both. I didn’t see her around London at all, didn’t see her in any shops, or out with groups of friends; she’d just disappeared completely out of my circle. People asked, and I had trouble explaining it, but I did my best.

Adam took up the role of calling her to see if she wanted to come to the first screening of the film. We were going to put a rough edit on a DVD and watch it at his house on a Saturday afternoon.

“Sarah, how are you? Long time, no speak.” Adam smiled into the received. “Good, yes, we’re all good here, thank you. Helen is good, as are the boys.”

More silence while Sarah prattled on.

“Oh, excellent. Listen, the reason I’m calling is we’re just about to put together a rough edit and we wanted to know if you would like to catch up to watch it.”

A short silence followed.

“There’ll be myself, Jack, and Ben, and yourself if you can make it.” He stopped for a moment. “Lovely, we’ll see you Saturday then? Yes, at my place... okay, thank you Sarah. You too. Bye.”

“Yes or no?” I looked at him.

“So long as Aleesha wasn’t coming, she was happy.”

I breathed out heavily. “Ok. Good. Good.”

It was good, and I was nervous as hell.


	35. Chapter 35

**_Sarah_ **

I physically felt my stomach flip as I looked up from my spot on the couch. Ben looked down at me, as if to request permission to sit next to me. A short nod was all I could manage, and he squashed between Adam and I on the couch, handing me a glass of wine.

“How have you been? I haven’t heard from you.” Ben began quietly.

“I’ve been good.” I nodded. “Just trying to work away from the spotlight; I need to get as much done as possible before we start promoting.”

He nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“How’s work for you?”

“Busy, busy.”

“You’re doing a lot of good stuff at the moment, though.” I offered.

He stopped and sat back for a moment. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you get the -.”

“I did.” I nodded. “I just didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.”

“That’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, really.”

“You two ready?” Adam looked over to us.

“Sorry.” I sat back in the couch and put my glass aside. “Yes. All good.”

“Me too.” Ben handed me his glass to put on the side table next to the couch.

Curtains were closed, phones taken off the hook, mobiles turned off and we settled in to watch the very first, rough cut. It was completely overwhelming to be watching it in front of me; a lump in my throat, and my eyes pricked with tears. I took my shoes off and hitched my knees up under my chin, arms wrapped around my knees.

“You okay?” Ben looked over at me.

“I am and I’m not.” I choked. “But, yes, I’m okay.”

I stared at the screen blankly as the sex scene started. It was only acting, we all knew it was only acting, but it was uncomfortable to watch all the same, knowing what came before and after that. I know I was being watched for my reaction, and I gave nothing. No hint, no glimpse of what was flashing through my mind, as hard as that was.

I felt like I was holding my breath through the entire process, only heaving a sigh of relief as the last scene clicked over and mock credits rolled. I sat up at the end and disappeared to the bathroom, stilling myself for a few minutes before facing the group again. I was a ball of pent up emotions, frustrations, excitement.

The film itself was brilliant, and I couldn’t wait to see a full, clean edit, complete with music and complete special effects. I rejected an offer to go out for dinner with the boys that night and, instead, traipsed back to my flat. Adele was out for the night, on a date, and I sat on the couch with the television to keep me company.

All I needed now was the premier schedule and I could sort out my next few months in terms of work.


	36. Chapter 36

**_Benedict_ **

I felt like a right cock sitting next to Sarah on the couch. Completely and utterly ashamed at what I’d put her through the last six months. Not only had I singlehandedly destroyed our friendship, but I’d made an arse of myself in front of friends, family and fans. Although Angela had explained how excited the fan base had been at the end of that relationship with Aleesha, so I guess that’s something.

Sarah looked pained, uncomfortable as I sat next to her, and moved away when I tried to hug her at the end of the film, and again when she left.

“Please, don’t.” She said only loud enough that I could hear.

“Please let me?”

“No.” She backed away, walked through the front door and out the street.

“Got some work to do there, haven’t you?” Jack smirked, grabbing his jacket. “See you during the week, guys.”

The release and promotional schedule came out the following week while I was in Australia filming a movie. I sat down at my laptop at the end of the night and looked at the clock; accounting for the time difference, it would be about 10a.m. in London. I’d thought about Sarah since I’d last seen her, she just didn’t look her usual happy self when she left Adam’s that afternoon. I decided to call her.

“Sarah Watford.” She picked up after two rings.

“Sarah. It’s Ben. Please don’t hang up on me.” I’m not sure why, but I half expected her to.

“Hey Ben,” her voice was quiet. “How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m in Sydney at the moment. How are you?”

“What are you doing in Sydney?”

“Filming. It’s a movie about some guy, who’s been a complete ass, that would be me, packs up his life to try his luck on the other side of the world.”

“Okay.” She said nothing other than that.

“Anyway.” I huffed. “Are you okay? How are you?”

“I’m okay, thank you. How are you?” We were going around in circles.

“Yeah, I’m not too bad. I just wanted to talk to you, though. I miss having you in my life.”

“That kind of wasn’t all my doing, though.”

“No, no it wasn’t. I’m willing to accept that I was a complete moron for a large part of it. I should’ve listened to what you wanted, because what I got turned out to be a monstrous mistake.”

“Really? It looked like you were enjoying it so far as we were all concerned.”

“Probably for the first week.” I offered. “After that it got very tangled.”

“Was I right?”

“Sorry?”

“Was I right. What I told you about her, was it true?”

“Yes, you were right.”

“Hmmm.” She hummed down the line.

“What about what I told you?” I pried.

“He was just very jealous of you. I never told him about us.”

“I know you didn’t.” I concurred.

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s how I ended up with the blood nose on set. I told him he was sloppy seconds.”

She snorted and laughed. “Not quite. He never quite got that out of his mind, and it just poisoned everything.”

“Yeah, well. I stuffed up, and I’m sorry.”

“I think we’re both at fault here, somehow.”

I was surprised to hear that, and didn’t agree with her completely. “I can’t agree with you completely. You wanted complete privacy, you didn’t want any of the shit that goes along with this job, and I completely looked a gift horse in the mouth. If I could do this again, if you’d let me, it would be completely private. Everything completely under the radar.”

“Bit hard now that everyone and sundry knows where I live. My address went out online when it was believed we were dating.”

“What?” My heart was pounding, and my stomach churned.

“I had need to call the police a few times.”

“Oh Sarah, why didn’t you say something? I could have organised something.”

“It’s okay, it’s sorted now.”

“Are you having any ongoing problems?”

“So long as I stay away from you, then no. The minute we pop up together again, then yes I will.”

“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

“No, I’m sorry. I need to get going, I have a meeting I need to be in.”

“I’m starting to think having meetings is your way of getting rid of me.”

“I have to go, Ben. Sleep well.”

“Talk soon?”

“Maybe.” She answered. “Thank you for your call.”

Just like that, she’d hung up. I felt completely disconnected to her. Alone on the other side of the world and even Sarah wouldn’t talk to me. I sent the release and promotional schedule through to Angela and got her to mark everything down in the diary. It looked like the next time I would see Sarah would be at the first screening of the film; from that phone call onward, she started rejecting invitations to see the film.


	37. Chapter 37

**_Sarah_ **

Saying no is sometimes such a difficult thing to do, particularly when it’s something that you feel so passionately about; in this case, watching further cuts of _Interminable_. I couldn’t fathom things going back to how they were with Ben, as much as he hinted at it on the phone. A call from Sydney; he must’ve been desperate to want to talk to me late at night.

The release and promotional schedule was in my inbox, and I looked over it daily, again, pinching myself at the insanity of the situation. I sat down with my superiors and worked out what days I’d need off.

I let Adam know that I would be okay for all of the dates scheduled in the program; there were even a few Q&A sessions my name had been put down for. The idea of doing Q&A sessions was very daunting. But, if I had any experience with this, Ben would be the one getting most of the questions.

“You’ll probably just have to sit there, to be honest.” Adam chuckled down the line. “I’ve seen it before at things Ben has done. It’s a complete whitewash of questions for him and no one gets a look int. At all.”

“Oh, well that makes me feel a bit better. I mean, if someone asks me why I wrote it, I don’t know if I could give an answer.” I admitted. “It just happened.”

“All you can do is tell the truth.”

Owing to Ben’s profile, we scored one of the biggest spots in the London Film Festival. We had a big opening night planned, and I was petrified. I took Adele with me as my date. We spent the afternoon getting hair and makeup done before returning to our flat to get our outfits on. A car came to pick us up on time and drive us directly to the premiere. My family, also on the invite list, were going to meet us at the venue.

I was a bundle of nerves; if Adele was anymore excited she might burst. There was a press conference to get through before the screening, and a cocktail party afterwards. The red carpet was full of flash bulbs. No thanks to Aleesha, the press knew who I was. Ben also didn’t help the situation.

I tried walking down the red carpet, sliding into the background, when he skipped over and took my hand.

“You look stunning tonight.”

“No Ben.” I protested as he tried to drag me over to the bleachers of waiting photographers.

“Come on. This is your moment. Enjoy it.”

“No, I just want to go inside.”

“Smile, please.” He smiled broadly at me. “Come on. You created this, enjoy it.”

We stood, side by side, and posed for photos, in amongst ridiculous questions about whether or not we were a couple, and people shouting at us about our body language.

“Don’t answer them,” Ben mumbled through a smile. “Just keep smiling, take my lead.”

I took his lead and was soon out of there, the two of us joined by Adam, Ben signed some more autographs, took more photos with fans and then slipped in the front door to join us. Aleesha tried to muscle in on the action and Ben blanked her completely. He wanted nothing to do with her, and made that plainly obvious, posing for photos for all of 30 seconds before getting away from her as quickly as her could.

A group of guests waited at a small finger food reception while Ben, Adam, Jack, Aleesha and myself headed up a Q&A panel about the film. Lasting all of 45 minutes, though it felt like a lifetime, Ben and Aleesha were bombarded with questions about the film. Adam got a few questions, and deflected a few to Jack, and I was mostly left alone for the duration of the event. Except for one question.

“Ms. Watford.”

“Good evening.” I smiled politely.

“How are you dealing with the press intrusion into your life since you started seeing Mr. Cumberbatch?”

“I’m not seeing Mr. Cumberbatch. Do you have a question about the film?”

“Not appropriate.” Ben flagged the reporter to security, and they were quickly removed from the room, ticket for the screening confiscated.

At the close of proceedings we were ushered into the picture theatre. I was seated a row back from Ben, who had brought his mum as his date. She made a beeline for me, wrapping me in a hug.

“Hello, Sarah.” Her hug was warm and inviting.

“Hello, how are you?” I smiled.

Ben stood over near his seat, watching on as we had a quick catch up. Robbie, Richard and his dad were there also, which was wonderful. Fancy that, they were seated directly next to my family toward the rear of the cinema.

The lights dimmed and the film started. Complete with soundtrack, special effects, everything. It was done, and I was completely blown away. I couldn’t help it, I cried, insane I know, but I cried. A few feet shuffled to my right and, before I knew it, I had Ben crouched down in front of me with a hanky.

“You okay?”

I nodded.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Very.”

“Want to go outside for five minutes?”

“No, I want to watch.” I shook my head. “Go back to your chair, I’m okay.”

I met Oscar Mayer at the cocktail party afterwards. He was a journalist, and working on his first fiction book, so we spent a large portion of the night chatting away. He congratulated me on the film, and picked up on a few points that he enjoyed; it was lovely to discuss that with someone outside of my immediate circle. He was quite lovely, dark hair, dark eyes, and thoroughly charming; we agreed to catch up for lunch over the course of the next week.

Adele latched on to Fry, Ben’s friend, and they got along swimmingly over the course of the night. Ben came and found me later on in the night, when I was sat resting in a booth of the cocktail lounge. The minute he descended on me, so did the photographers.

“Survived your first one,” he chuckled. “It’s all easy from here.”

I smiled. “It’s been a really amazing night.”

“It has, hasn’t it? How are your parents enjoying the night?”

“They’re good. Mum had a bit of a cry, dad’s proud as punch, everyone else is loving it.”

“As they should. Mum said it was amazing, Robbie and Richard are beside themselves, so it’s good.”

“How’s Aleesha?” I bit.

Ben rolled his eyes. “She’s been kept firmly in her corner for the night.”

“Yeah, I think she knows to leave me alone. She came over to me at one point and I chatted to her for a bit, for the point of the cameras, but then told her to leave me alone.”

“You too?” he smirked. “I really am sorry.”

“I know. I just can’t.” I sighed. “It’s just all wrong, Ben.”

“I miss your friendship.” His gaze was intense.

“I miss yours.”

“Well, maybe we can just work on that part of it, then?”

I nodded. “That would be nice.”


	38. Chapter 38

**_Benedict_ **

Australia was hot, so very hot; I’d never been happier to walk off the plane and into the terminal at Heathrow to see rain bucketing from the skies. Luggage collected, Angela met me at the gate and escorted me out to the car, awaiting flashbulbs and autograph hunters. I looked over my schedule in the car and managed to wrangle a few days off to head up to Sheffield again, which was nice. It had been a few months since I’d been there.

I hadn’t heard from Aleesha, and didn’t particularly want to. I’d tried to smooth things over with Sarah, and wasn’t quite sure that had worked either, so I just decided to be on my own for a while. Looking back it was fairly obvious that Sarah had been treated like garbage in this whole scenario, but I thought I might just leave her be for a while. Enjoy my friends, enjoy my family, and when someone showed up that fit into that pocket nicely, then I’d take that opportunity.

The premier rolled around soon enough. My suit was pressed, and my shoes shined, tie done up and I was ready to go. Mum, dad, Robbie and Richard were joining me at the premier, which was lovely, and we all piled into the car to take us towards the venue.

Sarah was there with her family, and Adele, and was dressed in a lovely navy blue gown. Very simple, and elegant, her brown hair swept up in a very simple style, and just enough makeup to make her stand out. She looked gorgeous, and it hurt.

I saw her walking down the red carpet, trying to avoid the cameras, and raced over to grab her. She protested, but deserved this moment in the light. I wanted her to get all the credit due to her for such a wonderful story. We wouldn’t have been there without it, so it was important she was recognised.

The Q&A was a debacle. There were a lot of ridiculous questions, none more ridiculous than the question reserved for Sarah at the end, asking about press invasion into her life since she’d started seeing me. I saw red immediately; I wanted to protect her and couldn’t. All I could do was have the reported escorted from the building, which is exactly what happened.

She was so overwhelmed by everything that she got upset, and I felt terrible. No one near her got up to help her out, so I crawled over the top of people to get down the aisle and check on her. She was okay, and didn’t want me to stay, but to go and enjoy the night; her brain still trying to process that her creation and vision was playing out in front of her.

I got that. I really did.

The cocktail party was a blast; again I stayed away from Aleesha. I saw Sarah speaking to her for about five minutes, more Sarah being the bigger person than anything, and I knew that photo would end up in the paper. I then bailed Sarah up and grabbed her for a quick chat, having noticed her with a Times reporter only moments earlier.

It was a glorious feeling to hear her say that she missed me, even if it was only referring to our friendship, it was still better than nothing. I left for the night comforted, and feeling in a good place for the first time in months. The film was a hit, a lot of positive feedback at the cocktail event afterwards, and Sarah had agreed to working at our friendship.

It was very difficult in my profession to find someone who didn’t want my friendship simply because of who I was. Sarah was one of those people, and I was determined to make it work.


	39. Chapter 39

**_Sarah_ **

I woke up the next morning and couldn’t believe my luck. I was exhausted, having arrived home in the early hours of the morning, but still flushed with excitement. Oscar seemed like a lovely guy, Ben and I were sitting in a good place for the first time in a few months, we’d agreed to work on our friendship, which was lovely and I thoroughly adored him for making the first move in that regard.

Adele knocked on my bedroom door and sprang through immediately. Two bunches of flowers.

“Look at you, Miss. Screenwriter.” She cooed. “One from Oscar, and one from ‘the boys, Adam, Jack and Ben’.”

I sat up and looked at them, not cheap flowers at all. Oscar had asked for my address to pick me up on the Wednesday, and I hadn’t thought any more of it. The flowers from the boys were also a lovely touch. I sent each of them a text message to thank them for the gesture.

Flowers were placed in vases in the kitchen and lounge area, and we got along with our day. A celebratory brunch with family; turns out Ben’s mum had been in cahoots with my mum, so it was two families together at a rather upmarket London eatery. Ben turned up looking worse for wear.

“Where did you disappear to last night?” His voice croaky and very hung over.

“Me? Adele and I went home.”

He rolled his eyes. “We had a big night back at Adam’s. You should have all come.” He waved his hand. “Breakfast is on me, so order whatever you want.”

A few people shuffled around so as Ben could sit next to me. He sounded atrocious, and had a fantastic case of bed hair.

“Are we going to be gossiped about eating here?” I mumbled as he pulled his chair in.

“No, I know this place, and trust them. We’ll be fine.”

“Did you have a good night last night? Enjoy everything?”

“I had an amazing night. I’m really glad we got to speak.” He coughed through the hoarseness. “I feel very appreciative of that. Then it was just myself, Jack and Adam at Adam’s house drinking until the wee hours.”

“Excellent. Well, I accepted a lunch invite.”

“I heard.” He smiled. “He’s a nice guy. You’ll be fine with him.”

I was surprised at how accepting he was of the situation, given I knew he wanted more from me. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

A full English breakfast, piping hot tea and freshly squeezed juice were order of the morning. We made complete pigs of ourselves, Ben and I swapping breakfast halfway through; he’d ordered muesli and yoghurt, and sat whinging about how good my breakfast looked, so I swapped with him.

Richard wanted me to come to his shop before I went to anymore press engagements for the film so as he could give me some clothes to wear.

“On the house.” He fussed. “I have some great pieces that you’ll love, and if you don’t, we’ll make you a few things.”

“Thank you Richard, I appreciate that. That’s lovely.”

“Hey, how come you haven’t accepted my friend request?” Robbie looked at me.

“Your what?” I looked at him.

“I sent you a friend request on Facebook, and you’ve never accepted it.” He pouted. “I’m beginning to think you don’t love me.”

I looked at him strangely, pulled my phone from my handbag and went through into Facebook. “I’ve stayed away from that black pit of death the last few months. It seems I’m not very popular because I’ve hung out with your charming brother.”

“Yes, well, there are plenty of boys that think that, too, so don’t think it’s exclusively a female issue.” Richard laughed.

The table laughed with him, and I finally accepted Robbie’s friend request. His face lit up and he started scrolling through my page.

“Favourite actors are Sam Neill, nice, Kevin Bacon, very nice, Benedict Cumberbatch, nah, not him.”

I felt myself go ten shades of red; embarrassed, I hid my face. Ben laughed and pulled me into a hug.

“It’s okay, we all have our faults.” He offered.

Brunch extended into a late lunch, and coffee and cake back at Ben’s place in the late afternoon. Another first for Adele, she’s managed to find herself inside Ben’s house.

“I don’t need to remind you about discretion?” I looked at her in the back of the cab.

“Absolute.” She zipped her mouth shut. “Fry wants to catch up this week.”

“No way? Really? Go for it!”

First reviews were out, and they were outstanding. We spent the afternoon crammed into Ben’s lounge reading some of the first reviews from the night before. Four stars, five stars, all credit for actors and producers, but I didn’t care. I was on such a high, thrown completely into hyperspace when one of the reviews did actually mention the script and writing. I was so proud it was disgusting.

“Giving up your day job yet?” Ben looked at me, sitting on the arm of the chair I was sitting in.

“No,” I shook my head. “Not until the first million rolls in.”

“First million.” He smiled. “Okay.”

“What? Why?”

“You haven’t got far to go, then?”

“Please.” I laughed. “You didn’t pay that much for my script.”

“We didn’t pay that little for it either.”

“Well, we’ll see what the next one brings, won’t we?”

“How is that going?”

“It’s getting there. I’m about three quarters done, I think.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s a romance.” I clutched my hands in front of him. “Want to be in a romance next?”

“Urgh.” He got up and walked away. “No.”

“Come on Ben. The girls will love it.”

“I’m sure they will.”

“They really will.” Richard agreed.

My family left first, doing the drive back to Cardiff. Ben’s family were staying with him for a few days, while Adele and I went back to our apartment to get ready for the week ahead. Ben had a massive week ahead involving interviews for _Interminable_ , and I’d been invited along to a few of them; the team keen to get me used to the type of exposure I was going to deal with in the lead up to film festivals and the awards push.

Wednesday came around quickly, and I was soon being completely charmed by Oscar. He was working that day, so I’d agreed to come and have lunch with him on his lunch break. A quick check and he swore he wasn’t recording anything, and I felt bad for even asking. Even still, I was very conscious of what I did and didn’t talk about.

Being an entertainment reporter, he’d managed to talk his boss into travelling around to the different film festivals that Interminable was playing at, and that worked well because we soon started seeing each other ‘officially’, whatever that meant. I did know that it meant my agent had to release a statement of some sort because we’d been photographed out together. _Writer of Interminable, Sarah Watford, seen on cosy lunch date with Times reporter Oscar Meyer. Whatever will Ben Cumberbatch think of this?_ Was the caption to the photo.

My life had changed, and very quickly. Instead of sulking over it, as I’d done in the past, I just had to deal with it and get used to it. It was part and parcel of the job, though I still wanted anonymity. As such, Adele and I packed up and move suburbs, into a more discreet location. Not far from Ben’s house, the area was renowned for its privacy, and that suited us completely.

I ended up taking indefinite leave from work; royalties were starting to come in as the film was sold to different territories around the world. Adele grumbled each morning as she came out into the kitchen to get ready for work. I still did manuscripts as I was able to do, but my output was markedly reduced. I just wanted to keep my finger in the pie with the publisher should I need to go back to work, and they were just excited they had a minor celebrity on their hands.

Ben and I started spending more time together. I’d finished the next script I was working on and we endeavoured to catch up often enough to work through it and make some changes before it was presented to Adam. We knew each other better now, so it was easier to bounce ideas around and not get each other upset. Suffice to say, it was a lovely feeling and I revelled in the knowledge that I was now making my way in life in the field I had always wanted to work in.

I was pleased, however, to note that my meetings with Ben had flown under the radar. Either the paparazzi were getting sick of us (I hoped), or we were doing things properly in regards to flying under the radar. We didn’t arrive anywhere together, we didn’t leave anywhere together, we never travelled together, and stuck to private dining booths where we could. Had things been like this from the start, maybe we might have had a chance.

Oscar had asked me a few times about Ben, and all I said to him was that there was nothing to tell. I didn’t want to see anything in print, and I didn’t want him knowing anything he might be tempted to print. While it was alluded to in the press that we had been together, nothing was ever confirmed, so suffice to say the gossip continued every time we were spotted together.

“You know there’s a lot of innuendo.” He stated.

“Of course there is.” I nodded. “I’m female, he’s male, bound to happen.”

“What? The sex?”

“No.” I scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. The innuendo.”

“You’re really not going to talk about him, are you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not. There’s nothing to tell. We’re friends. We’re working on a screenplay at the moment, print that.”

“I’m not after something to print. I’d like to think you think higher of me than that.” He smiled. “I thought we had something going on?”

“We do. I really enjoy this. I’m having a lot of fun with you, but I’m not going to talk about things that involve other people.”

“Well, that’s not much of a relationship then, if we can’t talk about anything.”

“We can talk about plenty.”

“Have I published anything yet?”

“No, but -.”

“No, no buts. I haven’t. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now, and nothing.”

“It’s been about 8 weeks.” I corrected him. “Maybe not even.”

“Well, can I ask you to Edinburgh with me over Christmas?”

“Ooooh. Big question.” I smiled. “Can I think on that one? I’ll find out what my family’s movements are over Christmas and we’ll go from there?”

“Of course you can.” He nodded. “I’d love for you to meet everyone.”

“Okay, excellent.”


	40. Chapter 40

**_Benedict_ **

It became very clear to me that I had to admit one thing. I was in love with Sarah. Completely and unashamedly in love with her. We’d been working on her next screenplay, I wanted to go over it before showing it to Adam. I knew what he’d look for, so I spruced it up a bit. We often spent entire days locked in private dining rooms, or my kitchen, and we’d even had an afternoon at Fry’s house with a group of friends and we _all_ had a look over the script and made changes.

This time, she laughed. She delighted in the suggestions, reworking sections in her script like hand writing, and eagerly emailing me late at night or early morning with changes already actioned. By the time Adam got it, it was polished and almost ready for action. I wasn’t planning on being in the film this time; I didn’t want to establish a pattern of buying things just so I could star in them, but the allure of a romantic comedy was there, and I had said I’d wanted to do one for a while.

“You could stir people and tell them I wrote it for you.” Sarah teased, sitting by the fire at Fry’s house.

Squawks of laughter could be heard as I came back into the back room. “Yeah, that would work really well. That boyfriend of yours would love it. He’s just _itching_ to print something about me.”

“I know he is.” Sarah confirmed. “He keeps asking me about you.”

“Jealous much?”

“Of course he is.” she smiled.

“So, did you two ever actually shag?” Anna came out to the back room with a tray of nibbles.

I looked at Sarah, and she looked at me. I shrugged, we were in safe company.

“Of course we did.” I grabbed a few biscuits and walked around the room.

“And you’re both sitting here talking civilly?”

“We are.” I nodded. “Took a bit, but, yeah. I think we’re in a good place, aren’t we?”

Sarah agreed. “Yep. All good.”

“What the hell was Aleesha?” Fry looked at me, Adele perched in his lap.

“A damn big mistake.” I offered. “A complete and utter bloody nightmare.”

“Is that awkward now?” Sarah asked. “I mean, we still have a heap of promo stuff to do.”

“We do, but thankfully a lot of our interviews and stuff are scheduled differently. Not because I asked for it, it’s just how things have worked out.”

Listening to Sarah talk that afternoon, I was sure I had all but lost her. She knew how I felt about her dating a member of the press though, realistically it wasn’t my business. She chose not to bring him to a lot of our social gatherings because, as she said herself, she couldn’t trust him not to print something. I think that said a lot about where the relationship was headed.

In fact, I had an interview lined up with him during the following week. That would prove to be interesting. I arrived on time, early in fact, to the cafe we’d agreed upon. I had the email from Angela with the details of the meeting.

I waited, and waited. Eventually Angela called me in a fluster.

“Ben, I’m so sorry honey. I don’t know what game this guy is playing at. He’s waiting at the pub near your house. He’s telling me he prearranged it with you or Sarah or something, I don’t know.”

“No, you know everything goes through you. It always has.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know. I’ve got the email in front of me with the details of the cafe I’m assuming you’re sitting in now?”

“Same here. I have it printed. Not to worry, I’ll get the bus out to the pub.”

What a complete jerk off. He grumbled at me for being late and holding up his afternoon. He was going to be late for a date that night now, thanks to me.

“Who did you notify of the change of address?” I glared at him across the table. “If my people don’t know about it, then I don’t know about it.”

“Sarah said she’d organise it with you.”

“Don’t you dare.” This had stated really well. “Don’t you ever bring her into our conversation.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because we aren’t here to talk about her.”

“Let’s begin shall we?” Oscar popped a Dictaphone on the table and started with his questions.

There is no way this was an interview about the film. The questions came thick and fast, a few thrown in about the film, but mostly questions about my private life, my fan base, strange fan encounters, my plans for life, and basically a whole heap of tripe that I mostly answered ‘no comment’ to.

When the interview was printed a few days later in the paper, I was labelled sullen, uncooperative, late, disregarding of peoples’ time and it was even alluded that I insulted my fan base by ridiculing some of the art work they’d produced. I never would, of course, but that bit hard, and the shit storm followed.

I called Sarah, furious.

“I’m sorry, I really need to talk to you.” I started.

“Of course, what’s going on?”

“Have you read The Times this morning?” I spat.

“No, but I have been on Facebook.”

“So you know why I’m calling?”

“Uh, you gave a really poor interview?”

“No, I didn’t. Are you serious? He screwed me over and set me up from the start. He changed the venue of the interview and said you had notified me of the change -.”

“What? Ben no, he wouldn’t say that.” Great, she was defending him.

“Of course he would, he’s an arse.”

“Ben” she warned.

“Sarah, I told you when you started seeing him, didn’t I? He asked me three times, three different ways if I had slept with you. He is obsessed with the idea.”

“What’d you tell him?” she asked.

“I told him it wasn’t his business.”

“Well, better than saying sloppy seconds, I guess.” She chuckled.

“Sarah, this isn’t funny.”

“No, I know it’s not.” She agreed. “So, what, he told you I’d filtered a message through to you about changing the venue?”

“Yes.”

“No such thing ever happened. What else did he talk about?”

“Garbage. Hardly a thing to do with the movie, a lot to do with you, and gloating. Apparently you’re really good in bed, or so he tells me.”

“WHAT?”

“You heard me. He had me riled up to the point I could’ve belted him. The only thing stopping me was the Dictaphone on the table.”

“Oh, Ben, I am sorry this has happened. I’m going to talk to him when I see him tonight.”

“Sarah, I’m serious. Please listen to me.”

“Yes Ben.”

“Get rid of him.”

“Now, we aren’t having this conversation again.”

“Sarah,” I was well aware I was pleading now. “I need you to listen to me. He is the shiftiest, slimiest thing there ever was.”

“Ben, please. He’s not that bad. He’s never printed anything I’ve told him.”

“Really? You tell him tonight that we slept together. See how long it takes for that to make it into print. I dare you.”

“I don’t want the media storm that would come with that. I quite like my media free existence at the moment.” She stopped for a moment. “Hey, I gotta go, he’s just turned up here, which is odd. I’ll call you back when I’ve spoken to him.” She whispered. “Bye Al.”

“Bye Sar.”

Less than an hour later, Sarah was back on the phone. This time, she was just as confused as I was.

“Ben.” She started. “Something’s not right.”

“I know that, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“He says he emailed your agent, and she had taken care of it.”

“No. No. No.” She couldn’t see me, but I was shaking my head wildly. I also knew Angela was trying to call me, my home phone kept ringing. “He laid the blame squarely on you. Your fault. He never mentioned Angela at all.”

“Oh, Ben, I don’t know. Do you want to call Angela and work out what to do? I don’t know what else to say to you? Are you sure you’re not confused?”

“I am so sure, I’ve never been surer of anything. He is constructing a smear campaign which, I’m tipping by what you’ve said, that it’s working.”

“If that was his aim, then yes.”

“You know me, Sarah, I would never say half the things he’s put in there.”

She was silent. She didn’t believe me.

“Sarah?”

“I’m sorry, Ben, I just can’t see it.” She tried to reason.

I hung up on her.


	41. Chapter 41

**_Sarah_ **

Things never do stay sane for very long, do they? Ben had an interview organised with Oscar, who was excited about it the night before, texting me madly, wanting to know what sort of questions he would like to be asked; what questions did her prefer, and could I help him? I gave him a few ideas, asking about his attraction to roles, research he’d done for the part, and the like. From what he told me the next night, the interview went well, but Ben seemed distracted.

I got an answer about two days later when the article was printed. It was scathing; not a positive thing said about Ben, which flew in the face of every single article I’d ever read and, being a fan before working with him, I’d read my fair share. I lied when Ben called and I told him I hadn’t read it.

What he was telling me was flying in the face of what I thought I knew about Oscar as well. I trusted him; hell, I was having sex with him, I’d want to be able to trust him. Yet, Ben was telling me that Oscar had dropped me into the interview, apparently I’d organised a new venue with Ben. I didn’t believe that, we’d never discussed work or his interviews.

Ben was beside himself, not sure what direction to go in, and I felt really uncomfortable with the things he was saying about Oscar. He came over to my place for lunch, so I took my chance to grill him about it. All he said was that Angela, not me, had organised the change in venue, and that Ben had gotten snarky when my name was mentioned, and everything slid downhill from there.

He seemed legitimate. I couldn’t work out what was going on.

When I told Ben that, he hung up on me. Never, ever had we hung up on each other, and we’d known each other going on eighteen months by this stage.

A statement was released by his team that afternoon, and quickly spread around the internet. It was written by Ben, in his own handwriting, refuting the claims completely, and putting forth his side of the story, and mentioned me only so much as to say that Oscar was trying to use his close friendship with me as a bating tool to upset him throughout the interview. He went on to say he appreciated the effort fans put in to fan fiction, and paintings, art work and the like and assured them that he did actually read some of them when he had the time. I’d never seen him do that, but I’m sure that would placate the masses.

It did. A few hours later, and I was sitting in my kitchen, scrolling through Facebook on my laptop, showing him some of the comments. Ben walked around wildly, hands up behind his head.

“I can’t believe this, Sar, I can’t. What game is he playing at?”

Looking at his face, the distress, I wondered if he wasn’t actually right, and that bothered me significantly. Oscar was working back late that night, and I wasn’t going to be seeing him that night. I’d been lucky so far, with no photographers hiding out around the place, so I was comfortable enough that we wouldn’t get called out in the media for, heaven forbid, spending time together.

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” I came to the slow realisation that we were being played against each other.

“It is. He is as shifty as they come.”

“Okay, well, your note is out there now, and people are seeing it.”

“But that doesn’t bode well for you. I mean, people know something went on between us, even if it’s not printed, they know. And I’ve basically come out and slagged off your boyfriend in the public domain. On the internet.”

“Well, that’s his problem. I’ve known you eighteen months, correct?”

Ben nodded.

“Even before I knew you personally, I was reading about you, and your interviews, all that crap. I was one of these girls.”

“You were?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course I was, and this interview flies in the face of everything I’ve read before, and come to know since.”

“So you believe me?”

“I think I do, yes.” I nodded. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it, though.”

“Can you leave it with me a few days? I’m going to wait for everything to die down. I have a few more interviews this week, and I’ll keep towing the same line as I put out there tonight. That’ll sort him out.”

“Please don’t involve me. If this is a pissing contest, don’t involve me.”

“I’m not competing with anyone. I just want the truth to be told. If I was late, or if I was rude, then I would own that.” His face lit up. “Go and see him tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“Get the tape from his Dictaphone.”

“Ben.” I warned. “You’re placing me in a situation here that I’m not comfortable with.”

“Just grab the tape. Tell him you have it, and will give it to me if he doesn’t retract what he’s said; about everything.”

“I can’t just do that.”

“What if it had been written about you?” He looked across the bench at me.

I went to Oscar’s that night, after he’d finished working. My heart pounded as I raced around his flat while he was in the shower. I knew where he kept his tapes; he kept everything, so the interview with Ben had to be there somewhere. On cue, it peeped out at me from his top drawer, ‘Benedict Cumberbatch November 2014’. I snatched the tape out of the case and replaced it. If it was missing, he would notice.

“Oscar.” I smiled at him. “I’m really sorry, I’m going to have to go.”

“What? Why? You just got here.”

“Well, I did, but I’ve had a phone call from Adam, I need to have a late meeting with him, Jack and Ben about going to Stockholm for the film festival there.”

“Oh, so you’re going to pass me up to spend time with someone who hates most people around him?”

“That’s not true. That article was really quite offensive.”

I was sure he knew something was up, but let it slide. I walked out with a quick kiss on the lips and walked down the street, back towards my house where Ben was waiting for me. I got a sick rush, running up the front doorstep and into the lounge.

“I got it.” I pulled the tape from my pocket and threw it at him. “You do not use this unless crunch time happens.”

“No, I’m going to keep it under my hat.” He promised. “I’m going to Adam’s now, he’s going to copy this, I’ll bring it straight back, and you can just take it back where you got it from.”

“No worries.”

“Thank you, Sarah.”

In the rush that we were in, he leant down and kissed me. On the mouth. I pulled back quickly and shut the door on him. Not again. I wasn’t going through this again. I was with Oscar, wasn’t I? Though technically, I’d just stolen from him.

For a friend.

I was helping a friend.

That’s all.


	42. Chapter 42

_**Benedict** _

I was satisfied. I had a copy of the tape. I returned it to Sarah and she, in turn, returned it to wherever Oscar had them stored. I’m not sure how she managed it, but I was eternally grateful. I kept a copy of the recording on CD, one on USB and one on my hard drive. I was going to use it if I needed to, even if it was just to protect Sarah.

I kissed her as I left that night. Not so much an accident, but a spur of the moment thing that just... happened. She never said she was unimpressed or that she didn’t like it, but she did remind me on my return that she was with Oscar and what we’d done wasn’t right.

“We can’t go back there.” She whispered, after I’d kissed her again, this time on her doorstep. “We can’t Ben.”

“Why are you with him? He’s a liar. He’s using you.”

“I love him.”

“Open your eyes and say that.”

Sarah’s eyes slid open slowly as she looked at me.

“I didn’t think you could.” I answered. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Of course you will.”

Oscar and his controversy died down after a few days, and things started sorting themselves back into a normal pattern. Media work continued for Interminable, and Sarah was starting to get really noticed for her work, which was spectacular. Adam had agreed to purchase her new script, and that was all sorted out through agents.

We soon departed for the Stockholm Film Festival; Adam, Jack, Aleesha, Sarah, and myself. Also, Oscar decided he was joining us. Thankfully, his work being his work, he was only able to attend on the opening night of the festival, and not as a guest of the film, as a reporter. Adam tapped that idea on its head very early on.

Sarah understood, and didn’t argue. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was waking up to what he was like. That would have been ideal. Again, we came out to rave reviews. It was released to the media that Twelve One Two had purchased another script from Sarah, and she was getting masses of buzz, a lot of media outlets requesting interviews with just her.

She handled herself fantastically; a massive personal growth spurt having taken place for her over the last eighteen months. She was blooming fantastically, and had some wonderfully rehearsed answers to some of the curly questions. I think she even managed to put me to shame as I stood by the sidelines of some of the interviews waiting for my turn.

Oscar found himself getting a lot of hurt online, particularly from the female quarter of my fan base, which made me laugh. Sarah and I had a laugh one night sitting on Twitter and watching his account get absolutely lambasted by girls coming out from all sides to poo poo his choice of words for his reviews of Stockholm. In particular, he took a dig at Interminable. Upon second viewing, it wasn’t so great, apparently.

Of course he justified his review by claiming it showed he was doing his girlfriend no favours and was giving an honest critical review of the film. The fans, however, weren’t buying it, and ridiculed him.

“If I laugh anymore, I’m going to wet my pants.” Sarah climbed off the couch. “I’m going back to my room and I’m going to bed. Good night Ben.”

“Night Sarah.” I smiled as she walked out. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

“Thank you. I’m proud of you, too.” The door clicked shut behind her and she was gone for the night.


	43. Chapter 43

**_Sarah_ **

What a convoluted mess the whole Oscar vs. Ben show was becoming. I’d gotten the recording for Ben, he had copies of it, more than one he told me, and Oscar continued his relentless lambasting of Ben in the media. I couldn’t work out why he didn’t like him, and it was wearing thin.

“You need to lay off Ben.” I sat across the dinner table from him.

“What?”

“You need to lay off my friend. I’m getting offended when I read your articles about him. It’s clear you have a bee in your bonnet about him. Do I need to get the both of you in a room so you can sort your differences out, and we can work out who’s telling the truth about that first interview? I’m happy to get Angela in here as well, so she can confirm emails to and fro.”

“No, we don’t need to do that.” Oscar shook his head.

“Why not? I think it would help. I mean, Ben is one of my closest friends and every few days I have to open the paper up and find another garbage article that you’ve written. And now, to justify to your job, you’re claiming transparency by insulting my work. If it was genuinely rubbish, I would accept it, but it’s not.”

Oscar looked shocked. “Are you taking his side?”

“I’m taking the side of truth. One of you is lying about the situation. I would like to know who.” I looked at him.

“You’re talking his side.” He scoffed. “You sleep with him once, and you take his side.”

“What gives you the idea I slept with him once?”

“Your friend is a big mouth.”

Adele had told him I’d slept with Ben. I looked at him, angry, wild, a rage bubbling to the surface.

“Who I have and haven’t slept with is nobody’s business. It’s not for you to talk about; it’s not for Adele to talk about.”

“So it’s true then?”

“No.”

“Who’s lying now?”

I got up and left. I couldn’t sit there and listen to him anymore. I didn’t want to look at him. I sent Ben a text as I walked down the street.

_Adele told him we’ve slept together._

He responded immediately.

_If he prints it, I won’t deny it. I’m not ashamed or embarrassed. What it will paint him as, though, is a complete jerk because he’s then turned on you._

I was crying as I typed a response.

_I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry._

He called.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” I sobbed.

“Oh, Sarah. It’s okay. It’s not a state secret. It never was. If it gets printed, it’s not the worst thing that can happen.”

“I know, it’s just not fair. This year has been a bloody rollercoaster.”

“You’re telling me.” He agreed. “It’s been nuts.”

Ben talked to me until I got home. I had no idea what I was going to do with Adele, so I decided not to say anything at all. If Oscar’s track record was anything to go by, he would expose her in good time, along with any other juicy bits of gossip he’d managed out of her.

“Are you okay?” she followed me up the stairs to the second floor.

“Of course.” I nodded. “Just hormonal. It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yep, all good.” I forced a smile and shut the bathroom door.

I was now living with someone I couldn’t trust to keep a secret. Absolute discretion had turned into a load of rot. I watched her the next morning across the dining table, eating her breakfast as per normal before she went to work. If anyone in Ben’s circle found out, she would be ex-communicated, and quickly. If there was one thing I’d learnt in my time with Ben’s friends, it’s that they were fiercely protective of him, and the barriers went up when someone was seen to be an outsider, or not good.

Other portions of the media had picked up on the spat between Ben and Oscar and they were trying to paint me as Oscar’s ‘informant’. It only got worse when Ben and I were seen lunching together one afternoon in Soho.

“What’ve you done about Adele?” Ben pinched some chips from my plate.

“Nothing yet. I don’t know what to do.”

“You know if it gets out that she told Oscar that, Fry would drop her like a hot potato.”

“I know.” I nodded. “I know. I can’t work out how to bring it up.”

“I won’t unless I have the go ahead from you.”

“Why can’t I just have a normal relationship, Ben? Hey? I just want to fly under the radar, no cameras, no paps, no photogs, no autograph hunters. I just want to go eat somewhere quiet, and go home without being spotted. I want to enjoy my friends and family. Is that too much to ask?”

“Speaking of which, are you still going to Edinburgh for Christmas with him?”

“Well, I don’t know if I should, now. Are you in Sheffield?”

“I will be, yeah.”

“I should just go with you.” I snorted. “At least we can bunker down there.”

“You’re more than welcome, you know that. I’m sure my parents have asked yours over for New Years. There’s some weird sort of love fest going on there at the moment.”

“Our mums are in love.” I smiled, as Ben signed an autograph for a small child who’d approached the table.

“Give that one to Oscar, see if he runs with it.” Ben teased.

I huffed. “I don’t know what to do, Ben.”

“Yeah, well you don’t want my opinion.”

“Yeah I know. I’m not far from that, I think. I can’t justify putting myself in that position anymore.”

“Flying out or driving, or training?”

“Edinburgh? Flying.”

“From Heathrow?”

“Yeah.”


	44. Chapter 44

**_Benedict_ **

I hated seeing Sarah this upset. Oscar was unrelenting in his campaign against me; it continued for weeks. Every chance he had to print something negative, he did it. I really couldn’t work out why she stayed around. She’d said she loved him, but couldn’t say it with a straight face, so I don’t know what the deal was.

We chatted about it over lunch one afternoon, in between autographs. Sarah was chuffed to be asked for her autograph on a novelisation of the film. It was really lovely to be there for her first autograph. It was a special time for her. Having said that, the next day she was painted as some sort of snitch for Oscar in the paper, which was so far from the truth it wasn’t funny.

Everything was coming from Adele, and that pissed me off wildly. The one person Sarah was supposed to be able to rely on was the one person betraying her, and betraying me. I’m not sure what sort of payment scheme was going on, but she also thought she was in a relationship with Fry at this point in time.

I’d had a very quiet discussion with him about it one night, and we agreed to keep it on the quiet until such time as she slipped up or Sarah decided to put a stop to it. We had no proof, of course, other than what Oscar had told Sarah.

Christmas was fast approaching and I hated the notion that she was going to spend time in Edinburgh with his family. It made me angry, sad, and confused all at the same time. I just couldn’t work out why she was with him when I had made it abundantly clear that I was do whatever I could to have her in my life.

I had an idea of what I could do, and tried to put it into action.

_What time is your flight out to EDI?_

I could always rely on her for a quick response.

_11\. What time’s train to Sheffield. Breakfast first?_

I liked her thinking.

_Train is midday. Definitely breakfast first. Christmas Eve breakfast at my place?_

It wasn’t part of the plan, but it could be.

_Absolutely. I’ll bring some pastries._

All I had to do now was wait for Christmas to roll around. That was still two weeks out, and we still had plenty of things to organise before then. I’d done all my Christmas shopping online, so all I had to do was wait for them to turn up and wrap them as I went.

The two weeks prior to and following Christmas, I’d blocked out. No projects, no interviews, nothing. Having said that, I broke my own rule; following on from the rave reviews of Interminable, which opened on general release boxing day, we’d already gotten to work on the next script. A short film we’d wanted to do for a while and could now finance thanks to the already promising profits of Interminable.

Directly following that, we’d be working on Sarah’s next script. We actually had people coming to us with scripts, now, which was an excellent situation to be in. We decided we wanted the rom-com to capture the Valentine’s Day crowd for 2016, so we had to move quickly to get it storyboarded, cast picked and scripted. I had eight weeks spare in August and September, so we blocked them out for filming and got to work quickly on getting everyone else together.

Sarah was still floating about with her job, in and out of interviews that she was getting. She was waiting to see how well Interminable did before making the decision to pull the pin on her job completely. She was already dropping down to part time and casual status, but wanted to keep a finger on the pulse.

She arrived on my doorstep on the morning of Christmas Eve; bags packed for her trip, looking absolutely gorgeous in jeans and plain knit jumper. I stood aside and let her in the front door.

“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

“Nope, and I’d like to keep it that way.” She unravelled her scarf and dropped it on top of her suitcase.

That told me everything I needed to know; a silent confirmation of everything I’d been waiting to hear from her.

We enjoyed a quick breakfast of croissants, bacon, eggs, pineapple, fresh filtered coffee and juice. Sarah filled me in on Oscar’s latest issue, and that was the fact that we’d bought Sarah’s next script.

“He seems to think that you’re just buying these scripts to keep me close, keep me wrapped around your finger, and that you slag me off to everyone when I’m not around.”

“Of course I do. That’s why we’re having breakfast this morning.”

“Yeah, well, my thoughts exactly.” She agreed. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s time to drop that recording online somewhere.”

“I’m thinking so too.”

We stopped and looked at each other, we both knew it was going to happen, it was just a question of who had the balls to post it.

“I’m happy to do it. I’ve got a dodgy tumblr account. I could -.”

“You do?” she laughed.

“Of course I do. I know how these things work. I could just drop the audio file in there and watch it spread.”

“Wait until after Christmas.” She suggested. “I have to spend time with his family. I don’t want them hating me.”

“Okay, sure.” I agreed.

We left in separate cabs; Sarah to the airport, and me to the train station.


	45. Chapter 45

**_Sarah_ **

Well, I was at my wits’ end. I’d already committed to Christmas with Oscar and his family, but I wasn’t sure if I’d make it that far. I was making plans to ask Adele to move out after Christmas. I knew that Fry knew about her talking to the media; Ben had told him, and we’d then had a very quiet discussion one afternoon at his house.

Ben and I had breakfast together on Christmas Eve, exchanging gifts because we weren’t going to see each other for a few weeks. He’d bought me a vintage typewriter, which was just gorgeous. Completely non functional, but it would look amazing in the room I called my Writing Den.

I bought him a diary, and told him that he could use that to make sure he kept his appointments on time and in the right place.

“Very funny, Sarah.” He laughed.

“I thought it was.” I smiled.

I hadn’t told Oscar I was having breakfast with Ben; I’d decided it was best to not mention it. I didn’t need to upset him as far as Ben was concerned, and didn’t need the grief I got from him about spending time with Ben.

We farewelled each other with a hug and a kiss as we climbed into separate cabs.

“I’ll miss you.” Ben offered.

“I’ll miss you, too.” I admitted. “Let’s do this again when I get back.”

“I’d love to.” Ben kissed me on the cheek. “Have a good Christmas.”

“You too.”

The cab ride was relatively quick for Christmas Eve, I was surprised, and I arrived with the minimum of fuss, meeting Oscar at check-ins. He was ready to go and a bit annoyed that I hadn’t met him there.

“Deadlines, beautiful.” He kissed me. “Please keep to time.”

“Sorry. I just thought I’d stop and have breakfast with a friend on the way through.”

“Which friend? Adele?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Just a friend.”

“It was him, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” I smiled, proudly. “I had breakfast with Ben.”

“Anything I need to know?”

“Well, we had croissants, ham, cheese, bacon, eggs, toast, grilled fruit. It was lovely, really. We would’ve invited you, except you don’t like him.” I bit.

I’d reached the point where I’d had enough. If you broke everything down to a bare minimum, I wouldn’t be where I was in life without Ben, Adam and Jack. They were the three that took a chance, and everything that has unravelled since was credit to them. Oscar looked indignant, like I was at fault somehow for standing up for my friend. History or not, he was a good friend; one of my best.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I warned. “I have had enough.”

“Enough of what?”

“Of whatever this thing is you have against Ben.”

Oscar scoffed. “He’s not who you think he is.”

“Somehow I think it might be the other way around.” I mumbled, as we moved closer towards the check in counted, carry-on luggage at the ready.

We were only going a few days, so all I was taking was carryon; I didn’t see the point of taking a massive suitcase full of clothes. I looked at Oscar, a complete suitcase for a few nights. That weird panic set in again as the first thing I did was compare him to Ben. A few nights in Sheffield required a small bag, that’s all either of us had taken, almost in compliment to each other. I brushed the thought aside as just a left over from breakfast and continued to shuffle up the queue.

As much as I tried to push that niggling little noise to the back of my head, it got louder still. We’d checked in and walked through to the airline lounge for a coffee before our flight. I relaxed into an oversized, comfortable chair and waited. Christmas Eve and Oscar was on his laptop working, typing up something. An advertisement for Interminable played on the television overhead. I was excited, the first time I’d seen one on television, and yet he couldn’t care less, dismissing it with a shrug.

I looked at him, glared at him. Things were unravelling very quickly that morning. I found myself wondering why on earth I was there to begin with. I looked around the room, people looked at me sometimes like I was familiar to them, and they couldn’t work out where it was exactly they knew me from. It was nowhere near as bad as Ben copped when we were out sometimes, so I had nothing to complain about in that instance.

I played out a few different scenarios in my head. What if I just packed up and left? Did I say anything? Or was I just supposed to get up and leave? I was in a position now where I couldn’t really make a big song and dance in public; else it ends up in a newspaper. Let alone the idea that whatever I did next was going to end up in a newspaper anyway, given Oscar’s job.

That realisation told me everything I needed to know, and it hit me like a ton of bricks, compounded with a television advert above the bar for a new series that Ben was starring in. I sat up a bit straighter to watch it, my attention captivated by what was on the screen, my heart beating a little bit faster, and my face smiling unconsciously. I looked back at Oscar and felt none of those things. In fact, I couldn’t even say I was fond of him anymore. Ben, however, I was in love with him.

An announcement for our flight echoed through the speaker system, so we gathered bags and headed towards the gate. I checked my phone one last time before I left; a text message from Ben.

_I’m coming for you. Watch the news._

Watch the news? What the hell was he talking about?

I stood at the flight gate with Oscar, and replaced my phone in my pocket. The battery had died typing out a response, so I couldn’t contact Ben if I wanted to. I looked down the corridor of the airport, spotting a television in the next gate, the news about to start.

I pulled myself away from Oscar and started walking towards the television screen.


	46. Chapter 46

**_Benedict_ **

I arrived at the train station in plenty of time, ticket and coffee purchased and I perched my overnight bag on the seat in front of me. I was rugged up for the cold, hardly a recognisable face in the crowd, but I still got a few requests for autographs. Not so bad, really. I couldn’t help but feel, in the pit of my stomach, that I was making the worst mistake of my life. I’d let her walk away once, and I was doing it again.

I switched my phone on and looked through the photo roll, smiling at some of the memories in there, and deleting the ones even bleach couldn’t remove. No, I was about to make a stupid mistake if I didn’t do something, and now.

I dialled Adam’s phone number.

“Ben, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Can you do me a favour?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“Release the audio. Throw it on that tumblr account we have.”

“I’m happy to go down for this; I’ll just post it directly to my Twitter. It’ll get out much quicker that way.”

“Whatever works, I just need it out there today. She can’t get on that plane with him.”

“Finally!”

“Sorry?”

“You’re finally going to get your shit together when she’s about to get on a plane with another man.”

“That’s basically it, yes.” I laughed. “Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

I hung the phone up, collected my bag and scurried towards the exit, a few hasty photographs on the way. The last thing I needed was bad publicity after Oscar’s unrelenting crusade, so I felt obliged to stop with everyone that asked, and do the obligatory photo and autograph, quick chat and hasty exit.

Christmas Eve, and a twenty minute wait for a cab. I fired off a quick text message to Sarah; I didn’t want her getting on that plane. I got no response, but climbed in the back of the cab with the direction that I needed Heathrow. If she was already on the plane, then I would just have to fly up to Edinburgh and bring her home. No other option.

Her phone was off, and I muttered to myself after trying to call her for perhaps the third time in as many minutes. Traffic was preposterous, the driver ducking and weaving between cars. I was sure if I made it to the airport I wasn’t going to make it there alive.

Nerves set in and I wondered whether or not I was making the right decision. I had to be, everything about breakfast that morning told me I was. He didn’t even know she was with me, that told me everything I needed to know. Everything.

I threw one hundred pounds at the cabbie, made his day, and raced into the airport. A few more people stopped me on the way, so a few more photos and autographs before I raced to the check in gate. I had no idea what airline she was flying out on, so I took a chance.

“One ticket for the next flight to Edinburgh, please.”

“That’s boarding in two minutes, sir.”

“That’s fine. I’ll make it.” I puffed, out of breath.

I paid in cash, handed over some I.D. and the attendant gawped at me. Not again. I looked at her blankly.

“Can I please have my ticket? Boarding in two minutes?” I reminded her.

“Of course, thank you Mr. Cumberbatch.” She smiled coyly and handed over my ticket.

I ran, stopping only for security, brushing past people, zipping in and out, and getting frustrated as I got held up behind groups of people. The first boarding call echoed as I made it through the screening station; bag out and swabbed for drugs and bombs. I didn’t have time for this, but I didn’t have time to argue and draw attention to myself either.

“I’m sorry, my flight is boarding.” I explained.

“Not to worry, sir, won’t take a moment.”

I was sure I would’ve died of old age before this woman got her act together and did the swab test. I snatched my bag back and skipped down towards the flight gate, the last strands of people filing into the doors now. Boarding pass scanned and I walked down the gantry and into the plane cabin.

“Mr. Cumberbatch, hello.” A stewardess greeted me.

“Thank you, hello.” I puffed.

I let people go ahead of me as I scanned the plane for passengers. Neither of them were onboard. I looked at the stewardess and hoped, just this once, I could use my position to swing a favour.

“Excuse me, miss.” I smiled at her. “I’m wondering if you could tell me if a certain passenger had boarded the plane.”

She looked at me a moment, the realisation that she shouldn’t be telling me these things, but not wanting to upset me at the same time crossed her face in a myriad of separate looks. She grabbed the passenger manifest from behind her and I pointed down the list.

“Sarah Watford, has she boarded yet?”

“No, sir, she hasn’t.”

I looked towards the back of the plane, Oscar returning from the toilet. He glared at me, said nothing and sat down. I kept looking at him.

“What?!” he shouted. “You won. Go on and gloat.”

“Is she in the airport?” I demanded.

“You’re so smart; go figure it out for yourself.”

“Is she here?” I tried again.

“Tell him!” another passenger interjected. “Is she here?”

“Yes, she just left.”

I said nothing, turned and left quickly. Back down the gantry and back out into the airport.

She had to be here somewhere.


	47. Chapter 47

**_Sarah_ **

The audio from the interview had been released, and it didn’t look positive for Oscar. In fact, it looked downright ugly for him. It was apparently the celebrity scandal of the day, and I stood and watched it all unfold on the television screen in front of me. Oscar came over to me, asking what was wrong. I snatched my hand back as he tried to take hold of it.

“Is this true?” I looked at him. “Is this the actual audio?” I hadn’t heard it before it was broadcast.

“What? How did they get this?” he demanded. “Did you have something to do with this?”

“Probably someone you work with?” I suggested. “Is this for real? This is accurate. You goad him and treat him like garbage, then write a scathing article about how horrible _he_ was? You make me sick.”

Oscar looked at me, no reaction.

“And if it’s not bad enough, you prise information out of my closest friends and continue to try and drag him down. Hell, I knew you were jealous, but this just takes the cake. This is really something special. You are disgusting.”

“I guess you’re going to use this as an excuse to go and cry to him, are you?” His eyes black as coal burnt into me, and I returned his glare.

I snatched my bag from the floor and walked away, leaving Oscar standing there. I didn’t need any further explanation and I didn’t particularly want to hear it. What surprised me more was that he didn’t even follow me, or try to offer anything anyway. He just seemed to be very ‘oh well’ about it all. Almost as if I was the one that was going to benefit from this.

I stopped in at the toilet on the way, I was going to burst if I didn’t, before I ran out of departures and into the main airport area. It was insane, there was no way I was ever going to find him if he was actually here. I went outside, scouring the eyes along the footpath, looking for something, anything that might resemble him.

My shoulders slumped, defeated. I had no idea what my next move would be. Should I just get back on the plane and go to Edinburgh? Looking back now, I can’t believe that even crossed my mind, but I walked back into the airport and towards departures again. A few deep breaths and I stood in front of the ticker board.

Last boarding call for Edinburgh. This was it. Sink or swim. On the plane, or not on the plane. The sounds around me mangled into one hum of white noise; the clattering of coffee cups, idle chatter of families, crying of children, wobble of luggage wheels on the linoleum floors, nothing was distinguishable from the other until, like a sensor, my brain picked up a few words from the mess.

“Did you see him? Ben Cumberbatch ran through the gates earlier. Late for his flight, but he still stopped for a photo.”

My head snapped around to two teenage girls, clutching magazines to their chests, Ben’s face splashed across the cover.

He was here.


	48. Chapter 48

**_Benedict_ **

The thing with Sarah was, if she didn’t want to be found, you weren’t going to find her anywhere. It felt like it was one of those days. I waited by the boarding gate until the doors were shut one final time. No more passengers boarding, no more getting off. The stewards checked one last time. Did I want to get on the plane? No thank you. Not if Sarah wasn’t there.

Well, she had to be here somewhere, so I walked. Back out into the main airport terminal, walking the length of the domestic terminal, stopping for the loo and a cold drink; I was parched, and shoved the drink bottle into the pouch of my backpack.

Her phone was still switched off, and I was getting frustrated. It’s not like her to have her phone switched off. Maybe she’d decided she’d had enough of both of us. Either way, I had to know one way or another.

More photos and autographs. I managed to get out of these ones by telling people I was late for my flight, though I’m sure I just looked altogether lost. They were gracious enough to let me alone and on my way.

I turned around and moved back towards the departure lounge. If Sarah wasn’t out in the domestic terminal, maybe we’d missed each other and she’d slipped back up towards departures. I walked back up the hallway, through security again.

I must’ve looked lost, because a member of security came over to me.

“Sir, are you okay?”

“Sorry?” I looked at him.

“Are you okay? You look lost, and upset. Can I help you?”

“Well. I don’t know.” I mused. “Have you seen this girl around here at all?”

I pulled my phone from my pocket and scrolled through to a picture of Sarah sitting in our trailer, first day on set, before everything went pear shaped. I watched the guard as his eyes scanned the picture, he looked at me, back at the phone, and then back to me.

“I think you missed her, not ten minutes ago. She’s definitely not in here anymore. I saw her walk out towards the -.” He stopped. “That’s the girl who was on the news before, that jerk off of a boyfriend in the media.”

He had no idea who I was, it was fantastic.

“Yes, yes, that’s her.” I encouraged. “Any idea where I might find her?”

I looked at him as his eyes scanned around, locking onto an object.

“Right there.” He pointed. “She’s standing under the ticker board.”

There she was. Standing there, looking around, lost.


	49. Chapter 49

**_Sarah_ **

I walked straight over to the girls; they looked frightened. Probably with good cause, too, I’m sure I looked slightly unhinged by this time.

“I’m sorry, did you say Benedict was here?”

“Yes.” They jumped up and down excitedly. Instead of being annoyed at them, I found it thoroughly endearing, it was gorgeous that they got so excited about it.

“Do you know which way he went?”

“Oh he was running late for his flight.”

“I know, I’m supposed to be on the same flight.” I thought on my feet. “Do you know which way he went?”

“Oh, he went that way.” The first girl pointed towards the shopping area of the terminal.

“Really? That way?”

They nodded furiously and I ran off, back down to where I’d just come from. I stopped in every shop, head poking and jutting around, getting more and more frustrated as I turned into each shop. Nothing, no sign of him. I considered doing a quick check of the male toilets, but decided against it after watching some of the people coming out of them. Probably not my best idea ever.

I walked back slowly, a lump rising in my throat. I was skipping to plan Z, going home. I’d just go home, recharge my phone and call him. Ten minutes later I found myself back under the ticker sign, just watching. Oscar’s flight had left; that was the end of him. Until, of course, his next garbage laden article.

“Sarah!”

My heart leapt into my throat, and I spun around, searching madly for the voice, his voice. My eyes zipped to and fro, scanning my immediate area for something, anything. I locked onto him, as he scurried down from a security point towards me, pushing past people on his way through.

A smile split my face apart, and I wrapped him up in a hug as he approached; his arms warm and tight around me.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered.

“For what, what have you done?”

“For Oscar, for everything, for not staying.” I kissed him, quickly.

“Me.” He mumbled.

“You, what?” I kissed him again.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” I felt ready to burst from excitement.

“Nooo, not me, surely?” he teased.

“Yeah, you.” I nodded, this time kissing him properly.

I felt his hands rush up my back, as he pulled me into him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, determined to never let him out of my sights again. My fingers danced through his hair, a mess of locks previously hidden underneath a beanie; a frightful case of bed hair. I drank him in, completely, his smell, that deliriously beautiful aftershave he wears everywhere, his taste, the warm tang of coffee and chocolate sprinkles still left on his lips.

I stopped a moment and started laughing, still kissing him, and that started him laughing as well.

“I’ve been trying to call you.” He offered.

“My battery died. I’m so sorry. I got your text, and I was typing a reply and it died.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Here I was thinking you didn’t want to be found.”

“Of course not.”

“So.” He pulled back. “I have this idea.”

“What’s the idea?” I held his face, my thumbs brushing his cheeks.

“Well, what are you doing for Christmas now?”

I shrugged. “I could go to Cardiff, depends on if anyone’s going to give me something else to do?”

“Sheffield?”

“What about Sheffield?” I teased.

“Come with me.” He stated.

“Okay.” I smiled. “Absolutely. Let’s do this.”


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, folks. 
> 
> I've thrown the rest of this up this morning, hope you enjoy it!

_**Benedict** _

I found her.

In amongst all the people, I found her. Underneath the ticker board. I was determined this time everything was going to be different. Quiet, discreet, under the radar as much as we could keep it that way. I made a number of silent promises to her, and to us, as I stood there, arms around her and kissing her like some silent prayer passing between us.

Phone switched off? No, the damn battery was flat. We chatted quickly on the way to the train station about everything that had happened that morning. The audio that had spread online like wildfire. It didn’t take long and The Times had sacked Oscar; on Christmas Eve no less. Sucked to be him.

Would she come to Sheffield with me?

She did.

 


End file.
